pax_global_header00006660000000000000000000000064136476066160014531gustar00rootroot0000000000000052 comment=65e4285c566323a894d155441e5279ec4a9884f4 lz4-2.5.2/000077500000000000000000000000001364760661600122505ustar00rootroot00000000000000lz4-2.5.2/.gitignore000066400000000000000000000010051364760661600142340ustar00rootroot00000000000000# Created by https://www.gitignore.io/api/macos ### macOS ### *.DS_Store .AppleDouble .LSOverride # Icon must end with two \r Icon # Thumbnails ._* # Files that might appear in the root of a volume .DocumentRevisions-V100 .fseventsd .Spotlight-V100 .TemporaryItems .Trashes .VolumeIcon.icns .com.apple.timemachine.donotpresent # Directories potentially created on remote AFP share .AppleDB .AppleDesktop Network Trash Folder Temporary Items .apdisk # End of https://www.gitignore.io/api/macos cmd/*/*exe .idealz4-2.5.2/.travis.yml000066400000000000000000000004561364760661600143660ustar00rootroot00000000000000language: go env: - GO111MODULE=off go: - 1.9.x - 1.10.x - 1.11.x - 1.12.x - master matrix: fast_finish: true allow_failures: - go: master sudo: false script: - go test -v -cpu=2 - go test -v -cpu=2 -race - go test -v -cpu=2 -tags noasm - go test -v -cpu=2 -race -tags noasm lz4-2.5.2/LICENSE000066400000000000000000000027051364760661600132610ustar00rootroot00000000000000Copyright (c) 2015, Pierre Curto All rights reserved. Redistribution and use in source and binary forms, with or without modification, are permitted provided that the following conditions are met: * Redistributions of source code must retain the above copyright notice, this list of conditions and the following disclaimer. * Redistributions in binary form must reproduce the above copyright notice, this list of conditions and the following disclaimer in the documentation and/or other materials provided with the distribution. * Neither the name of xxHash nor the names of its contributors may be used to endorse or promote products derived from this software without specific prior written permission. THIS SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED BY THE COPYRIGHT HOLDERS AND CONTRIBUTORS "AS IS" AND ANY EXPRESS OR IMPLIED WARRANTIES, INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, THE IMPLIED WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY AND FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE ARE DISCLAIMED. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE COPYRIGHT HOLDER OR CONTRIBUTORS BE LIABLE FOR ANY DIRECT, INDIRECT, INCIDENTAL, SPECIAL, EXEMPLARY, OR CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES (INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, PROCUREMENT OF SUBSTITUTE GOODS OR SERVICES; LOSS OF USE, DATA, OR PROFITS; OR BUSINESS INTERRUPTION) HOWEVER CAUSED AND ON ANY THEORY OF LIABILITY, WHETHER IN CONTRACT, STRICT LIABILITY, OR TORT (INCLUDING NEGLIGENCE OR OTHERWISE) ARISING IN ANY WAY OUT OF THE USE OF THIS SOFTWARE, EVEN IF ADVISED OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. lz4-2.5.2/README.md000066400000000000000000000046411364760661600135340ustar00rootroot00000000000000# lz4 : LZ4 compression in pure Go [![GoDoc](https://godoc.org/github.com/pierrec/lz4?status.svg)](https://godoc.org/github.com/pierrec/lz4) [![Build Status](https://travis-ci.org/pierrec/lz4.svg?branch=master)](https://travis-ci.org/pierrec/lz4) [![Go Report Card](https://goreportcard.com/badge/github.com/pierrec/lz4)](https://goreportcard.com/report/github.com/pierrec/lz4) [![GitHub tag (latest SemVer)](https://img.shields.io/github/tag/pierrec/lz4.svg?style=social)](https://github.com/pierrec/lz4/tags) ## Overview This package provides a streaming interface to [LZ4 data streams](http://fastcompression.blogspot.fr/2013/04/lz4-streaming-format-final.html) as well as low level compress and uncompress functions for LZ4 data blocks. The implementation is based on the reference C [one](https://github.com/lz4/lz4). ## Install Assuming you have the go toolchain installed: ``` go get github.com/pierrec/lz4 ``` There is a command line interface tool to compress and decompress LZ4 files. ``` go install github.com/pierrec/lz4/cmd/lz4c ``` Usage ``` Usage of lz4c: -version print the program version Subcommands: Compress the given files or from stdin to stdout. compress [arguments] [ ...] -bc enable block checksum -l int compression level (0=fastest) -sc disable stream checksum -size string block max size [64K,256K,1M,4M] (default "4M") Uncompress the given files or from stdin to stdout. uncompress [arguments] [ ...] ``` ## Example ``` // Compress and uncompress an input string. s := "hello world" r := strings.NewReader(s) // The pipe will uncompress the data from the writer. pr, pw := io.Pipe() zw := lz4.NewWriter(pw) zr := lz4.NewReader(pr) go func() { // Compress the input string. _, _ = io.Copy(zw, r) _ = zw.Close() // Make sure the writer is closed _ = pw.Close() // Terminate the pipe }() _, _ = io.Copy(os.Stdout, zr) // Output: // hello world ``` ## Contributing Contributions are very welcome for bug fixing, performance improvements...! - Open an issue with a proper description - Send a pull request with appropriate test case(s) ## Contributors Thanks to all [contributors](https://github.com/pierrec/lz4/graphs/contributors) so far! Special thanks to [@Zariel](https://github.com/Zariel) for his asm implementation of the decoder. Special thanks to [@klauspost](https://github.com/klauspost) for his work on optimizing the code. lz4-2.5.2/bench_test.go000066400000000000000000000101001364760661600147050ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4_test import ( "bytes" "io" "io/ioutil" "testing" "github.com/pierrec/lz4" ) func BenchmarkCompress(b *testing.B) { buf := make([]byte, len(pg1661)) b.ReportAllocs() b.ResetTimer() for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { _, _ = lz4.CompressBlock(pg1661, buf, nil) } } func BenchmarkCompressRandom(b *testing.B) { buf := make([]byte, len(randomLZ4)) b.ReportAllocs() b.SetBytes(int64(len(random))) b.ResetTimer() for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { _, _ = lz4.CompressBlock(random, buf, nil) } } func BenchmarkCompressHC(b *testing.B) { buf := make([]byte, len(pg1661)) b.ReportAllocs() b.ResetTimer() for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { _, _ = lz4.CompressBlockHC(pg1661, buf, 16) } } func BenchmarkUncompress(b *testing.B) { buf := make([]byte, len(pg1661)) b.ReportAllocs() b.ResetTimer() for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { _, _ = lz4.UncompressBlock(pg1661LZ4, buf) } } func mustLoadFile(f string) []byte { b, err := ioutil.ReadFile(f) if err != nil { panic(err) } return b } var ( pg1661 = mustLoadFile("testdata/pg1661.txt") digits = mustLoadFile("testdata/e.txt") twain = mustLoadFile("testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer.txt") random = mustLoadFile("testdata/random.data") pg1661LZ4 = mustLoadFile("testdata/pg1661.txt.lz4") digitsLZ4 = mustLoadFile("testdata/e.txt.lz4") twainLZ4 = mustLoadFile("testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer.txt.lz4") randomLZ4 = mustLoadFile("testdata/random.data.lz4") ) func benchmarkUncompress(b *testing.B, compressed []byte) { r := bytes.NewReader(compressed) zr := lz4.NewReader(r) // Determine the uncompressed size of testfile. uncompressedSize, err := io.Copy(ioutil.Discard, zr) if err != nil { b.Fatal(err) } b.SetBytes(uncompressedSize) b.ReportAllocs() b.ResetTimer() for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { r.Reset(compressed) zr.Reset(r) _, _ = io.Copy(ioutil.Discard, zr) } } func BenchmarkUncompressPg1661(b *testing.B) { benchmarkUncompress(b, pg1661LZ4) } func BenchmarkUncompressDigits(b *testing.B) { benchmarkUncompress(b, digitsLZ4) } func BenchmarkUncompressTwain(b *testing.B) { benchmarkUncompress(b, twainLZ4) } func BenchmarkUncompressRand(b *testing.B) { benchmarkUncompress(b, randomLZ4) } func benchmarkSkipBytes(b *testing.B, compressed []byte) { r := bytes.NewReader(compressed) zr := lz4.NewReader(r) // Determine the uncompressed size of testfile. uncompressedSize, err := io.Copy(ioutil.Discard, zr) if err != nil { b.Fatal(err) } b.SetBytes(uncompressedSize) b.ReportAllocs() b.ResetTimer() for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { r.Reset(compressed) zr.Reset(r) zr.Seek(uncompressedSize, io.SeekCurrent) _, _ = io.Copy(ioutil.Discard, zr) } } func BenchmarkSkipBytesPg1661(b *testing.B) { benchmarkSkipBytes(b, pg1661LZ4) } func BenchmarkSkipBytesDigits(b *testing.B) { benchmarkSkipBytes(b, digitsLZ4) } func BenchmarkSkipBytesTwain(b *testing.B) { benchmarkSkipBytes(b, twainLZ4) } func BenchmarkSkipBytesRand(b *testing.B) { benchmarkSkipBytes(b, randomLZ4) } func benchmarkCompress(b *testing.B, uncompressed []byte) { w := bytes.NewBuffer(nil) zw := lz4.NewWriter(w) r := bytes.NewReader(uncompressed) // Determine the compressed size of testfile. compressedSize, err := io.Copy(zw, r) if err != nil { b.Fatal(err) } if err := zw.Close(); err != nil { b.Fatal(err) } b.SetBytes(compressedSize) b.ReportAllocs() b.ResetTimer() for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { r.Reset(uncompressed) zw.Reset(w) _, _ = io.Copy(zw, r) } } func BenchmarkCompressPg1661(b *testing.B) { benchmarkCompress(b, pg1661) } func BenchmarkCompressDigits(b *testing.B) { benchmarkCompress(b, digits) } func BenchmarkCompressTwain(b *testing.B) { benchmarkCompress(b, twain) } func BenchmarkCompressRand(b *testing.B) { benchmarkCompress(b, random) } // Benchmark to check reallocations upon Reset(). // See issue https://github.com/pierrec/lz4/issues/52. func BenchmarkWriterReset(b *testing.B) { b.ReportAllocs() zw := lz4.NewWriter(nil) src := mustLoadFile("testdata/gettysburg.txt") var buf bytes.Buffer for n := 0; n < b.N; n++ { buf.Reset() zw.Reset(&buf) _, _ = zw.Write(src) _ = zw.Close() } } lz4-2.5.2/block.go000066400000000000000000000247141364760661600137010ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4 import ( "encoding/binary" "math/bits" "sync" ) // blockHash hashes the lower 6 bytes into a value < htSize. func blockHash(x uint64) uint32 { const prime6bytes = 227718039650203 return uint32(((x << (64 - 48)) * prime6bytes) >> (64 - hashLog)) } // CompressBlockBound returns the maximum size of a given buffer of size n, when not compressible. func CompressBlockBound(n int) int { return n + n/255 + 16 } // UncompressBlock uncompresses the source buffer into the destination one, // and returns the uncompressed size. // // The destination buffer must be sized appropriately. // // An error is returned if the source data is invalid or the destination buffer is too small. func UncompressBlock(src, dst []byte) (int, error) { if len(src) == 0 { return 0, nil } if di := decodeBlock(dst, src); di >= 0 { return di, nil } return 0, ErrInvalidSourceShortBuffer } // CompressBlock compresses the source buffer into the destination one. // This is the fast version of LZ4 compression and also the default one. // // The argument hashTable is scratch space for a hash table used by the // compressor. If provided, it should have length at least 1<<16. If it is // shorter (or nil), CompressBlock allocates its own hash table. // // The size of the compressed data is returned. // // If the destination buffer size is lower than CompressBlockBound and // the compressed size is 0 and no error, then the data is incompressible. // // An error is returned if the destination buffer is too small. func CompressBlock(src, dst []byte, hashTable []int) (_ int, err error) { defer recoverBlock(&err) // Return 0, nil only if the destination buffer size is < CompressBlockBound. isNotCompressible := len(dst) < CompressBlockBound(len(src)) // adaptSkipLog sets how quickly the compressor begins skipping blocks when data is incompressible. // This significantly speeds up incompressible data and usually has very small impact on compression. // bytes to skip = 1 + (bytes since last match >> adaptSkipLog) const adaptSkipLog = 7 if len(hashTable) < htSize { htIface := htPool.Get() defer htPool.Put(htIface) hashTable = (*(htIface).(*[htSize]int))[:] } // Prove to the compiler the table has at least htSize elements. // The compiler can see that "uint32() >> hashShift" cannot be out of bounds. hashTable = hashTable[:htSize] // si: Current position of the search. // anchor: Position of the current literals. var si, di, anchor int sn := len(src) - mfLimit if sn <= 0 { goto lastLiterals } // Fast scan strategy: the hash table only stores the last 4 bytes sequences. for si < sn { // Hash the next 6 bytes (sequence)... match := binary.LittleEndian.Uint64(src[si:]) h := blockHash(match) h2 := blockHash(match >> 8) // We check a match at s, s+1 and s+2 and pick the first one we get. // Checking 3 only requires us to load the source one. ref := hashTable[h] ref2 := hashTable[h2] hashTable[h] = si hashTable[h2] = si + 1 offset := si - ref // If offset <= 0 we got an old entry in the hash table. if offset <= 0 || offset >= winSize || // Out of window. uint32(match) != binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(src[ref:]) { // Hash collision on different matches. // No match. Start calculating another hash. // The processor can usually do this out-of-order. h = blockHash(match >> 16) ref = hashTable[h] // Check the second match at si+1 si += 1 offset = si - ref2 if offset <= 0 || offset >= winSize || uint32(match>>8) != binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(src[ref2:]) { // No match. Check the third match at si+2 si += 1 offset = si - ref hashTable[h] = si if offset <= 0 || offset >= winSize || uint32(match>>16) != binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(src[ref:]) { // Skip one extra byte (at si+3) before we check 3 matches again. si += 2 + (si-anchor)>>adaptSkipLog continue } } } // Match found. lLen := si - anchor // Literal length. // We already matched 4 bytes. mLen := 4 // Extend backwards if we can, reducing literals. tOff := si - offset - 1 for lLen > 0 && tOff >= 0 && src[si-1] == src[tOff] { si-- tOff-- lLen-- mLen++ } // Add the match length, so we continue search at the end. // Use mLen to store the offset base. si, mLen = si+mLen, si+minMatch // Find the longest match by looking by batches of 8 bytes. for si+8 < sn { x := binary.LittleEndian.Uint64(src[si:]) ^ binary.LittleEndian.Uint64(src[si-offset:]) if x == 0 { si += 8 } else { // Stop is first non-zero byte. si += bits.TrailingZeros64(x) >> 3 break } } mLen = si - mLen if mLen < 0xF { dst[di] = byte(mLen) } else { dst[di] = 0xF } // Encode literals length. if lLen < 0xF { dst[di] |= byte(lLen << 4) } else { dst[di] |= 0xF0 di++ l := lLen - 0xF for ; l >= 0xFF; l -= 0xFF { dst[di] = 0xFF di++ } dst[di] = byte(l) } di++ // Literals. copy(dst[di:di+lLen], src[anchor:anchor+lLen]) di += lLen + 2 anchor = si // Encode offset. _ = dst[di] // Bound check elimination. dst[di-2], dst[di-1] = byte(offset), byte(offset>>8) // Encode match length part 2. if mLen >= 0xF { for mLen -= 0xF; mLen >= 0xFF; mLen -= 0xFF { dst[di] = 0xFF di++ } dst[di] = byte(mLen) di++ } // Check if we can load next values. if si >= sn { break } // Hash match end-2 h = blockHash(binary.LittleEndian.Uint64(src[si-2:])) hashTable[h] = si - 2 } lastLiterals: if isNotCompressible && anchor == 0 { // Incompressible. return 0, nil } // Last literals. lLen := len(src) - anchor if lLen < 0xF { dst[di] = byte(lLen << 4) } else { dst[di] = 0xF0 di++ for lLen -= 0xF; lLen >= 0xFF; lLen -= 0xFF { dst[di] = 0xFF di++ } dst[di] = byte(lLen) } di++ // Write the last literals. if isNotCompressible && di >= anchor { // Incompressible. return 0, nil } di += copy(dst[di:di+len(src)-anchor], src[anchor:]) return di, nil } // Pool of hash tables for CompressBlock. var htPool = sync.Pool{ New: func() interface{} { return new([htSize]int) }, } // blockHash hashes 4 bytes into a value < winSize. func blockHashHC(x uint32) uint32 { const hasher uint32 = 2654435761 // Knuth multiplicative hash. return x * hasher >> (32 - winSizeLog) } // CompressBlockHC compresses the source buffer src into the destination dst // with max search depth (use 0 or negative value for no max). // // CompressBlockHC compression ratio is better than CompressBlock but it is also slower. // // The size of the compressed data is returned. // // If the destination buffer size is lower than CompressBlockBound and // the compressed size is 0 and no error, then the data is incompressible. // // An error is returned if the destination buffer is too small. func CompressBlockHC(src, dst []byte, depth int) (_ int, err error) { defer recoverBlock(&err) // Return 0, nil only if the destination buffer size is < CompressBlockBound. isNotCompressible := len(dst) < CompressBlockBound(len(src)) // adaptSkipLog sets how quickly the compressor begins skipping blocks when data is incompressible. // This significantly speeds up incompressible data and usually has very small impact on compression. // bytes to skip = 1 + (bytes since last match >> adaptSkipLog) const adaptSkipLog = 7 var si, di, anchor int // hashTable: stores the last position found for a given hash // chainTable: stores previous positions for a given hash var hashTable, chainTable [winSize]int if depth <= 0 { depth = winSize } sn := len(src) - mfLimit if sn <= 0 { goto lastLiterals } for si < sn { // Hash the next 4 bytes (sequence). match := binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(src[si:]) h := blockHashHC(match) // Follow the chain until out of window and give the longest match. mLen := 0 offset := 0 for next, try := hashTable[h], depth; try > 0 && next > 0 && si-next < winSize; next = chainTable[next&winMask] { // The first (mLen==0) or next byte (mLen>=minMatch) at current match length // must match to improve on the match length. if src[next+mLen] != src[si+mLen] { continue } ml := 0 // Compare the current position with a previous with the same hash. for ml < sn-si { x := binary.LittleEndian.Uint64(src[next+ml:]) ^ binary.LittleEndian.Uint64(src[si+ml:]) if x == 0 { ml += 8 } else { // Stop is first non-zero byte. ml += bits.TrailingZeros64(x) >> 3 break } } if ml < minMatch || ml <= mLen { // Match too small (>adaptSkipLog continue } // Match found. // Update hash/chain tables with overlapping bytes: // si already hashed, add everything from si+1 up to the match length. winStart := si + 1 if ws := si + mLen - winSize; ws > winStart { winStart = ws } for si, ml := winStart, si+mLen; si < ml; { match >>= 8 match |= uint32(src[si+3]) << 24 h := blockHashHC(match) chainTable[si&winMask] = hashTable[h] hashTable[h] = si si++ } lLen := si - anchor si += mLen mLen -= minMatch // Match length does not include minMatch. if mLen < 0xF { dst[di] = byte(mLen) } else { dst[di] = 0xF } // Encode literals length. if lLen < 0xF { dst[di] |= byte(lLen << 4) } else { dst[di] |= 0xF0 di++ l := lLen - 0xF for ; l >= 0xFF; l -= 0xFF { dst[di] = 0xFF di++ } dst[di] = byte(l) } di++ // Literals. copy(dst[di:di+lLen], src[anchor:anchor+lLen]) di += lLen anchor = si // Encode offset. di += 2 dst[di-2], dst[di-1] = byte(offset), byte(offset>>8) // Encode match length part 2. if mLen >= 0xF { for mLen -= 0xF; mLen >= 0xFF; mLen -= 0xFF { dst[di] = 0xFF di++ } dst[di] = byte(mLen) di++ } } if isNotCompressible && anchor == 0 { // Incompressible. return 0, nil } // Last literals. lastLiterals: lLen := len(src) - anchor if lLen < 0xF { dst[di] = byte(lLen << 4) } else { dst[di] = 0xF0 di++ lLen -= 0xF for ; lLen >= 0xFF; lLen -= 0xFF { dst[di] = 0xFF di++ } dst[di] = byte(lLen) } di++ // Write the last literals. if isNotCompressible && di >= anchor { // Incompressible. return 0, nil } di += copy(dst[di:di+len(src)-anchor], src[anchor:]) return di, nil } lz4-2.5.2/block_test.go000066400000000000000000000077041364760661600147400ustar00rootroot00000000000000//+build go1.9 package lz4_test import ( "bytes" "fmt" "io/ioutil" "testing" "github.com/pierrec/lz4" ) const ( // Should match values in lz4.go hashLog = 16 htSize = 1 << hashLog ) type testcase struct { file string compressible bool src []byte } var rawFiles = []testcase{ // {"testdata/207326ba-36f8-11e7-954a-aca46ba8ca73.png", true, nil}, {"testdata/e.txt", false, nil}, {"testdata/gettysburg.txt", true, nil}, {"testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer.txt", true, nil}, {"testdata/pg1661.txt", true, nil}, {"testdata/pi.txt", false, nil}, {"testdata/random.data", false, nil}, {"testdata/repeat.txt", true, nil}, {"testdata/pg1661.txt", true, nil}, } func TestCompressUncompressBlock(t *testing.T) { type compressor func(s, d []byte) (int, error) run := func(t *testing.T, tc testcase, compress compressor) int { t.Helper() src := tc.src // Compress the data. zbuf := make([]byte, lz4.CompressBlockBound(len(src))) n, err := compress(src, zbuf) if err != nil { t.Error(err) return 0 } zbuf = zbuf[:n] // Make sure that it was actually compressed unless not compressible. if !tc.compressible { return 0 } if n == 0 || n >= len(src) { t.Errorf("data not compressed: %d/%d", n, len(src)) return 0 } // Uncompress the data. buf := make([]byte, len(src)) n, err = lz4.UncompressBlock(zbuf, buf) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } else if n < 0 || n > len(buf) { t.Fatalf("returned written bytes > len(buf): n=%d available=%d", n, len(buf)) } else if n != len(src) { t.Errorf("expected to decompress into %d bytes got %d", len(src), n) } buf = buf[:n] if !bytes.Equal(src, buf) { var c int for i, b := range buf { if c > 10 { break } if src[i] != b { t.Errorf("%d: exp(%x) != got(%x)", i, src[i], buf[i]) c++ } } t.Fatal("uncompressed compressed data not matching initial input") return 0 } return len(zbuf) } for _, tc := range rawFiles { src, err := ioutil.ReadFile(tc.file) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } tc.src = src var n, nhc int t.Run("", func(t *testing.T) { tc := tc t.Run(tc.file, func(t *testing.T) { // t.Parallel() n = run(t, tc, func(src, dst []byte) (int, error) { var ht [htSize]int return lz4.CompressBlock(src, dst, ht[:]) }) }) t.Run(fmt.Sprintf("%s HC", tc.file), func(t *testing.T) { // t.Parallel() nhc = run(t, tc, func(src, dst []byte) (int, error) { return lz4.CompressBlockHC(src, dst, -1) }) }) }) if !t.Failed() { t.Logf("%-40s: %8d / %8d / %8d\n", tc.file, n, nhc, len(src)) } } } func TestCompressCornerCase_CopyDstUpperBound(t *testing.T) { type compressor func(s, d []byte) (int, error) run := func(src []byte, compress compressor) { t.Helper() // Compress the data. // We provide a destination that is too small to trigger an out-of-bounds, // which makes it return the error we want. zbuf := make([]byte, int(float64(len(src))*0.40)) _, err := compress(src, zbuf) if err != lz4.ErrInvalidSourceShortBuffer { t.Fatal("err should be ErrInvalidSourceShortBuffer, was", err) } } file := "testdata/upperbound.data" src, err := ioutil.ReadFile(file) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } t.Run(file, func(t *testing.T) { t.Parallel() run(src, func(src, dst []byte) (int, error) { var ht [htSize]int return lz4.CompressBlock(src, dst, ht[:]) }) }) t.Run(fmt.Sprintf("%s HC", file), func(t *testing.T) { t.Parallel() run(src, func(src, dst []byte) (int, error) { return lz4.CompressBlockHC(src, dst, -1) }) }) } func TestIssue23(t *testing.T) { compressBuf := make([]byte, lz4.CompressBlockBound(1<<16)) for j := 1; j < 16; j++ { var buf [1 << 16]byte var ht [htSize]int for i := 0; i < len(buf); i += j { buf[i] = 1 } n, _ := lz4.CompressBlock(buf[:], compressBuf, ht[:]) if got, want := n, 300; got > want { t.Fatalf("not able to compress repeated data: got %d; want %d", got, want) } } } lz4-2.5.2/cmd/000077500000000000000000000000001364760661600130135ustar00rootroot00000000000000lz4-2.5.2/cmd/lz4c/000077500000000000000000000000001364760661600136675ustar00rootroot00000000000000lz4-2.5.2/cmd/lz4c/compress.go000066400000000000000000000052501364760661600160530ustar00rootroot00000000000000package main import ( "flag" "fmt" "io" "os" "sync/atomic" "code.cloudfoundry.org/bytefmt" "github.com/schollz/progressbar" "github.com/pierrec/cmdflag" "github.com/pierrec/lz4" ) // Compress compresses a set of files or from stdin to stdout. func Compress(fs *flag.FlagSet) cmdflag.Handler { var blockMaxSize string fs.StringVar(&blockMaxSize, "size", "4M", "block max size [64K,256K,1M,4M]") var blockChecksum bool fs.BoolVar(&blockChecksum, "bc", false, "enable block checksum") var streamChecksum bool fs.BoolVar(&streamChecksum, "sc", false, "disable stream checksum") var level int fs.IntVar(&level, "l", 0, "compression level (0=fastest)") var concurrency int fs.IntVar(&concurrency, "c", -1, "concurrency (default=all CPUs") return func(args ...string) (int, error) { sz, err := bytefmt.ToBytes(blockMaxSize) if err != nil { return 0, err } zw := lz4.NewWriter(nil) zw.Header = lz4.Header{ BlockChecksum: blockChecksum, BlockMaxSize: int(sz), NoChecksum: streamChecksum, CompressionLevel: level, } zw.WithConcurrency(concurrency) // Use stdin/stdout if no file provided. if len(args) == 0 { zw.Reset(os.Stdout) _, err := io.Copy(zw, os.Stdin) if err != nil { return 0, err } return 0, zw.Close() } for fidx, filename := range args { // Input file. file, err := os.Open(filename) if err != nil { return fidx, err } finfo, err := file.Stat() if err != nil { return fidx, err } mode := finfo.Mode() // use the same mode for the output file // Accumulate compressed bytes num. var ( zsize int64 size = finfo.Size() ) if size > 0 { // Progress bar setup. numBlocks := int(size) / zw.Header.BlockMaxSize bar := progressbar.NewOptions(numBlocks, // File transfers are usually slow, make sure we display the bar at 0%. progressbar.OptionSetRenderBlankState(true), // Display the filename. progressbar.OptionSetDescription(filename), progressbar.OptionClearOnFinish(), ) zw.OnBlockDone = func(n int) { _ = bar.Add(1) atomic.AddInt64(&zsize, int64(n)) } } // Output file. zfilename := fmt.Sprintf("%s%s", filename, lz4.Extension) zfile, err := os.OpenFile(zfilename, os.O_CREATE|os.O_WRONLY, mode) if err != nil { return fidx, err } zw.Reset(zfile) // Compress. _, err = io.Copy(zw, file) if err != nil { return fidx, err } for _, c := range []io.Closer{zw, zfile} { err := c.Close() if err != nil { return fidx, err } } if size > 0 { fmt.Printf("%s %.02f%%\n", zfilename, float64(zsize)*100/float64(size)) } } return len(args), nil } } lz4-2.5.2/cmd/lz4c/main.go000066400000000000000000000012631364760661600151440ustar00rootroot00000000000000package main import ( "flag" "fmt" "github.com/pierrec/cmdflag" ) func main() { flag.CommandLine.Bool(cmdflag.VersionBoolFlag, false, "print the program version") cli := cmdflag.New(nil) cli.MustAdd(cmdflag.Application{ Name: "compress", Args: "[arguments] [ ...]", Descr: "Compress the given files or from stdin to stdout.", Err: flag.ExitOnError, Init: Compress, }) cli.MustAdd(cmdflag.Application{ Name: "uncompress", Args: "[arguments] [ ...]", Descr: "Uncompress the given files or from stdin to stdout.", Err: flag.ExitOnError, Init: Uncompress, }) if err := cli.Parse(); err != nil { fmt.Println(err) return } } lz4-2.5.2/cmd/lz4c/uncompress.go000066400000000000000000000036111364760661600164150ustar00rootroot00000000000000package main import ( "flag" "fmt" "io" "os" "strings" "github.com/schollz/progressbar" "github.com/pierrec/cmdflag" "github.com/pierrec/lz4" ) // Uncompress uncompresses a set of files or from stdin to stdout. func Uncompress(_ *flag.FlagSet) cmdflag.Handler { return func(args ...string) (int, error) { zr := lz4.NewReader(nil) // Use stdin/stdout if no file provided. if len(args) == 0 { zr.Reset(os.Stdin) _, err := io.Copy(os.Stdout, zr) return 0, err } for fidx, zfilename := range args { // Input file. zfile, err := os.Open(zfilename) if err != nil { return fidx, err } zinfo, err := zfile.Stat() if err != nil { return fidx, err } mode := zinfo.Mode() // use the same mode for the output file // Output file. filename := strings.TrimSuffix(zfilename, lz4.Extension) file, err := os.OpenFile(filename, os.O_CREATE|os.O_WRONLY, mode) if err != nil { return fidx, err } zr.Reset(zfile) zfinfo, err := zfile.Stat() if err != nil { return fidx, err } var ( size int out io.Writer = file zsize = zfinfo.Size() bar *progressbar.ProgressBar ) if zsize > 0 { bar = progressbar.NewOptions64(zsize, // File transfers are usually slow, make sure we display the bar at 0%. progressbar.OptionSetRenderBlankState(true), // Display the filename. progressbar.OptionSetDescription(filename), progressbar.OptionClearOnFinish(), ) out = io.MultiWriter(out, bar) zr.OnBlockDone = func(n int) { size += n } } // Uncompress. _, err = io.Copy(out, zr) if err != nil { return fidx, err } for _, c := range []io.Closer{zfile, file} { err := c.Close() if err != nil { return fidx, err } } if bar != nil { _ = bar.Clear() fmt.Printf("%s %d\n", zfilename, size) } } return len(args), nil } } lz4-2.5.2/debug.go000066400000000000000000000005371364760661600136720ustar00rootroot00000000000000// +build lz4debug package lz4 import ( "fmt" "os" "path/filepath" "runtime" ) const debugFlag = true func debug(args ...interface{}) { _, file, line, _ := runtime.Caller(1) file = filepath.Base(file) f := fmt.Sprintf("LZ4: %s:%d %s", file, line, args[0]) if f[len(f)-1] != '\n' { f += "\n" } fmt.Fprintf(os.Stderr, f, args[1:]...) } lz4-2.5.2/debug_stub.go000066400000000000000000000001361364760661600147220ustar00rootroot00000000000000// +build !lz4debug package lz4 const debugFlag = false func debug(args ...interface{}) {} lz4-2.5.2/decode_amd64.go000066400000000000000000000001651364760661600150170ustar00rootroot00000000000000// +build !appengine // +build gc // +build !noasm package lz4 //go:noescape func decodeBlock(dst, src []byte) int lz4-2.5.2/decode_amd64.s000066400000000000000000000140411364760661600146520ustar00rootroot00000000000000// +build !appengine // +build gc // +build !noasm #include "textflag.h" // AX scratch // BX scratch // CX scratch // DX token // // DI &dst // SI &src // R8 &dst + len(dst) // R9 &src + len(src) // R11 &dst // R12 short output end // R13 short input end // func decodeBlock(dst, src []byte) int // using 50 bytes of stack currently TEXT ·decodeBlock(SB), NOSPLIT, $64-56 MOVQ dst_base+0(FP), DI MOVQ DI, R11 MOVQ dst_len+8(FP), R8 ADDQ DI, R8 MOVQ src_base+24(FP), SI MOVQ src_len+32(FP), R9 ADDQ SI, R9 // shortcut ends // short output end MOVQ R8, R12 SUBQ $32, R12 // short input end MOVQ R9, R13 SUBQ $16, R13 loop: // for si < len(src) CMPQ SI, R9 JGE end // token := uint32(src[si]) MOVBQZX (SI), DX INCQ SI // lit_len = token >> 4 // if lit_len > 0 // CX = lit_len MOVQ DX, CX SHRQ $4, CX // if lit_len != 0xF CMPQ CX, $0xF JEQ lit_len_loop_pre CMPQ DI, R12 JGE lit_len_loop_pre CMPQ SI, R13 JGE lit_len_loop_pre // copy shortcut // A two-stage shortcut for the most common case: // 1) If the literal length is 0..14, and there is enough space, // enter the shortcut and copy 16 bytes on behalf of the literals // (in the fast mode, only 8 bytes can be safely copied this way). // 2) Further if the match length is 4..18, copy 18 bytes in a similar // manner; but we ensure that there's enough space in the output for // those 18 bytes earlier, upon entering the shortcut (in other words, // there is a combined check for both stages). // copy literal MOVOU (SI), X0 MOVOU X0, (DI) ADDQ CX, DI ADDQ CX, SI MOVQ DX, CX ANDQ $0xF, CX // The second stage: prepare for match copying, decode full info. // If it doesn't work out, the info won't be wasted. // offset := uint16(data[:2]) MOVWQZX (SI), DX ADDQ $2, SI MOVQ DI, AX SUBQ DX, AX CMPQ AX, DI JGT err_short_buf // if we can't do the second stage then jump straight to read the // match length, we already have the offset. CMPQ CX, $0xF JEQ match_len_loop_pre CMPQ DX, $8 JLT match_len_loop_pre CMPQ AX, R11 JLT err_short_buf // memcpy(op + 0, match + 0, 8); MOVQ (AX), BX MOVQ BX, (DI) // memcpy(op + 8, match + 8, 8); MOVQ 8(AX), BX MOVQ BX, 8(DI) // memcpy(op +16, match +16, 2); MOVW 16(AX), BX MOVW BX, 16(DI) ADDQ $4, DI // minmatch ADDQ CX, DI // shortcut complete, load next token JMP loop lit_len_loop_pre: // if lit_len > 0 CMPQ CX, $0 JEQ offset CMPQ CX, $0xF JNE copy_literal lit_len_loop: // for src[si] == 0xFF CMPB (SI), $0xFF JNE lit_len_finalise // bounds check src[si+1] MOVQ SI, AX ADDQ $1, AX CMPQ AX, R9 JGT err_short_buf // lit_len += 0xFF ADDQ $0xFF, CX INCQ SI JMP lit_len_loop lit_len_finalise: // lit_len += int(src[si]) // si++ MOVBQZX (SI), AX ADDQ AX, CX INCQ SI copy_literal: // bounds check src and dst MOVQ SI, AX ADDQ CX, AX CMPQ AX, R9 JGT err_short_buf MOVQ DI, AX ADDQ CX, AX CMPQ AX, R8 JGT err_short_buf // whats a good cut off to call memmove? CMPQ CX, $16 JGT memmove_lit // if len(dst[di:]) < 16 MOVQ R8, AX SUBQ DI, AX CMPQ AX, $16 JLT memmove_lit // if len(src[si:]) < 16 MOVQ R9, AX SUBQ SI, AX CMPQ AX, $16 JLT memmove_lit MOVOU (SI), X0 MOVOU X0, (DI) JMP finish_lit_copy memmove_lit: // memmove(to, from, len) MOVQ DI, 0(SP) MOVQ SI, 8(SP) MOVQ CX, 16(SP) // spill MOVQ DI, 24(SP) MOVQ SI, 32(SP) MOVQ CX, 40(SP) // need len to inc SI, DI after MOVB DX, 48(SP) CALL runtime·memmove(SB) // restore registers MOVQ 24(SP), DI MOVQ 32(SP), SI MOVQ 40(SP), CX MOVB 48(SP), DX // recalc initial values MOVQ dst_base+0(FP), R8 MOVQ R8, R11 ADDQ dst_len+8(FP), R8 MOVQ src_base+24(FP), R9 ADDQ src_len+32(FP), R9 MOVQ R8, R12 SUBQ $32, R12 MOVQ R9, R13 SUBQ $16, R13 finish_lit_copy: ADDQ CX, SI ADDQ CX, DI CMPQ SI, R9 JGE end offset: // CX := mLen // free up DX to use for offset MOVQ DX, CX MOVQ SI, AX ADDQ $2, AX CMPQ AX, R9 JGT err_short_buf // offset // DX := int(src[si]) | int(src[si+1])<<8 MOVWQZX (SI), DX ADDQ $2, SI // 0 offset is invalid CMPQ DX, $0 JEQ err_corrupt ANDB $0xF, CX match_len_loop_pre: // if mlen != 0xF CMPB CX, $0xF JNE copy_match match_len_loop: // for src[si] == 0xFF // lit_len += 0xFF CMPB (SI), $0xFF JNE match_len_finalise // bounds check src[si+1] MOVQ SI, AX ADDQ $1, AX CMPQ AX, R9 JGT err_short_buf ADDQ $0xFF, CX INCQ SI JMP match_len_loop match_len_finalise: // lit_len += int(src[si]) // si++ MOVBQZX (SI), AX ADDQ AX, CX INCQ SI copy_match: // mLen += minMatch ADDQ $4, CX // check we have match_len bytes left in dst // di+match_len < len(dst) MOVQ DI, AX ADDQ CX, AX CMPQ AX, R8 JGT err_short_buf // DX = offset // CX = match_len // BX = &dst + (di - offset) MOVQ DI, BX SUBQ DX, BX // check BX is within dst // if BX < &dst CMPQ BX, R11 JLT err_short_buf // if offset + match_len < di MOVQ BX, AX ADDQ CX, AX CMPQ DI, AX JGT copy_interior_match // AX := len(dst[:di]) // MOVQ DI, AX // SUBQ R11, AX // copy 16 bytes at a time // if di-offset < 16 copy 16-(di-offset) bytes to di // then do the remaining copy_match_loop: // for match_len >= 0 // dst[di] = dst[i] // di++ // i++ MOVB (BX), AX MOVB AX, (DI) INCQ DI INCQ BX DECQ CX CMPQ CX, $0 JGT copy_match_loop JMP loop copy_interior_match: CMPQ CX, $16 JGT memmove_match // if len(dst[di:]) < 16 MOVQ R8, AX SUBQ DI, AX CMPQ AX, $16 JLT memmove_match MOVOU (BX), X0 MOVOU X0, (DI) ADDQ CX, DI JMP loop memmove_match: // memmove(to, from, len) MOVQ DI, 0(SP) MOVQ BX, 8(SP) MOVQ CX, 16(SP) // spill MOVQ DI, 24(SP) MOVQ SI, 32(SP) MOVQ CX, 40(SP) // need len to inc SI, DI after CALL runtime·memmove(SB) // restore registers MOVQ 24(SP), DI MOVQ 32(SP), SI MOVQ 40(SP), CX // recalc initial values MOVQ dst_base+0(FP), R8 MOVQ R8, R11 // TODO: make these sensible numbers ADDQ dst_len+8(FP), R8 MOVQ src_base+24(FP), R9 ADDQ src_len+32(FP), R9 MOVQ R8, R12 SUBQ $32, R12 MOVQ R9, R13 SUBQ $16, R13 ADDQ CX, DI JMP loop err_corrupt: MOVQ $-1, ret+48(FP) RET err_short_buf: MOVQ $-2, ret+48(FP) RET end: SUBQ R11, DI MOVQ DI, ret+48(FP) RET lz4-2.5.2/decode_other.go000066400000000000000000000041041364760661600152220ustar00rootroot00000000000000// +build !amd64 appengine !gc noasm package lz4 func decodeBlock(dst, src []byte) (ret int) { const hasError = -2 defer func() { if recover() != nil { ret = hasError } }() var si, di int for { // Literals and match lengths (token). b := int(src[si]) si++ // Literals. if lLen := b >> 4; lLen > 0 { switch { case lLen < 0xF && si+16 < len(src): // Shortcut 1 // if we have enough room in src and dst, and the literals length // is small enough (0..14) then copy all 16 bytes, even if not all // are part of the literals. copy(dst[di:], src[si:si+16]) si += lLen di += lLen if mLen := b & 0xF; mLen < 0xF { // Shortcut 2 // if the match length (4..18) fits within the literals, then copy // all 18 bytes, even if not all are part of the literals. mLen += 4 if offset := int(src[si]) | int(src[si+1])<<8; mLen <= offset { i := di - offset end := i + 18 if end > len(dst) { // The remaining buffer may not hold 18 bytes. // See https://github.com/pierrec/lz4/issues/51. end = len(dst) } copy(dst[di:], dst[i:end]) si += 2 di += mLen continue } } case lLen == 0xF: for src[si] == 0xFF { lLen += 0xFF si++ } lLen += int(src[si]) si++ fallthrough default: copy(dst[di:di+lLen], src[si:si+lLen]) si += lLen di += lLen } } if si >= len(src) { return di } offset := int(src[si]) | int(src[si+1])<<8 if offset == 0 { return hasError } si += 2 // Match. mLen := b & 0xF if mLen == 0xF { for src[si] == 0xFF { mLen += 0xFF si++ } mLen += int(src[si]) si++ } mLen += minMatch // Copy the match. expanded := dst[di-offset:] if mLen > offset { // Efficiently copy the match dst[di-offset:di] into the dst slice. bytesToCopy := offset * (mLen / offset) for n := offset; n <= bytesToCopy+offset; n *= 2 { copy(expanded[n:], expanded[:n]) } di += bytesToCopy mLen -= bytesToCopy } di += copy(dst[di:di+mLen], expanded[:mLen]) } } lz4-2.5.2/decode_test.go000066400000000000000000000045151364760661600150660ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4 import ( "bytes" "encoding/base64" "strings" "testing" ) func unbase64(in string) []byte { p, err := base64.StdEncoding.DecodeString(in) if err != nil { panic(err) } return p } func TestBlockDecode(t *testing.T) { appendLen := func(p []byte, size int) []byte { for size > 0xFF { p = append(p, 0xFF) size -= 0xFF } p = append(p, byte(size)) return p } emitSeq := func(lit string, offset uint16, matchLen int) []byte { var b byte litLen := len(lit) if litLen < 15 { b = byte(litLen << 4) litLen = -1 } else { b = 0xF0 litLen -= 15 } if matchLen < 4 || offset == 0 { out := []byte{b} if litLen >= 0 { out = appendLen(out, litLen) } return append(out, lit...) } matchLen -= 4 if matchLen < 15 { b |= byte(matchLen) matchLen = -1 } else { b |= 0x0F matchLen -= 15 } out := []byte{b} if litLen >= 0 { out = appendLen(out, litLen) } if len(lit) > 0 { out = append(out, lit...) } out = append(out, byte(offset), byte(offset>>8)) if matchLen >= 0 { out = appendLen(out, matchLen) } return out } concat := func(in ...[]byte) []byte { var p []byte for _, b := range in { p = append(p, b...) } return p } tests := []struct { name string src []byte exp []byte }{ { "literal_only_short", emitSeq("hello", 0, 0), []byte("hello"), }, { "literal_only_long", emitSeq(strings.Repeat("A", 15+255+255+1), 0, 0), bytes.Repeat([]byte("A"), 15+255+255+1), }, { "literal_only_long_1", emitSeq(strings.Repeat("A", 15), 0, 0), bytes.Repeat([]byte("A"), 15), }, { "repeat_match_len", emitSeq("a", 1, 4), []byte("aaaaa"), }, { "repeat_match_len_2_seq", concat(emitSeq("a", 1, 4), emitSeq("B", 1, 4)), []byte("aaaaaBBBBB"), }, { "long_match", emitSeq("A", 1, 16), bytes.Repeat([]byte("A"), 17), }, { "repeat_match_log_len_2_seq", concat(emitSeq("a", 1, 15), emitSeq("B", 1, 15), emitSeq("end", 0, 0)), []byte(strings.Repeat("a", 16) + strings.Repeat("B", 16) + "end"), }, } for _, test := range tests { t.Run(test.name, func(t *testing.T) { buf := make([]byte, len(test.exp)) n := decodeBlock(buf, test.src) if n <= 0 { t.Log(-n) } if !bytes.Equal(buf, test.exp) { t.Fatalf("expected %q got %q", test.exp, buf) } }) } } lz4-2.5.2/errors.go000066400000000000000000000020221364760661600141070ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4 import ( "errors" "fmt" "os" rdebug "runtime/debug" ) var ( // ErrInvalidSourceShortBuffer is returned by UncompressBlock or CompressBLock when a compressed // block is corrupted or the destination buffer is not large enough for the uncompressed data. ErrInvalidSourceShortBuffer = errors.New("lz4: invalid source or destination buffer too short") // ErrInvalid is returned when reading an invalid LZ4 archive. ErrInvalid = errors.New("lz4: bad magic number") // ErrBlockDependency is returned when attempting to decompress an archive created with block dependency. ErrBlockDependency = errors.New("lz4: block dependency not supported") // ErrUnsupportedSeek is returned when attempting to Seek any way but forward from the current position. ErrUnsupportedSeek = errors.New("lz4: can only seek forward from io.SeekCurrent") ) func recoverBlock(e *error) { if r := recover(); r != nil && *e == nil { if debugFlag { fmt.Fprintln(os.Stderr, r) rdebug.PrintStack() } *e = ErrInvalidSourceShortBuffer } } lz4-2.5.2/example_test.go000066400000000000000000000022521364760661600152720ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4_test import ( "fmt" "io" "os" "strings" "github.com/pierrec/lz4" ) func Example() { // Compress and uncompress an input string. s := "hello world" r := strings.NewReader(s) // The pipe will uncompress the data from the writer. pr, pw := io.Pipe() zw := lz4.NewWriter(pw) zr := lz4.NewReader(pr) go func() { // Compress the input string. _, _ = io.Copy(zw, r) _ = zw.Close() // Make sure the writer is closed _ = pw.Close() // Terminate the pipe }() _, _ = io.Copy(os.Stdout, zr) // Output: // hello world } func ExampleCompressBlock() { s := "hello world" data := []byte(strings.Repeat(s, 100)) buf := make([]byte, len(data)) ht := make([]int, 64<<10) // buffer for the compression table n, err := lz4.CompressBlock(data, buf, ht) if err != nil { fmt.Println(err) } if n >= len(data) { fmt.Printf("`%s` is not compressible", s) } buf = buf[:n] // compressed data // Allocated a very large buffer for decompression. out := make([]byte, 10*len(data)) n, err = lz4.UncompressBlock(buf, out) if err != nil { fmt.Println(err) } out = out[:n] // uncompressed data fmt.Println(string(out[:len(s)])) // Output: // hello world } lz4-2.5.2/fuzz/000077500000000000000000000000001364760661600132465ustar00rootroot00000000000000lz4-2.5.2/fuzz/corpus/000077500000000000000000000000001364760661600145615ustar00rootroot00000000000000lz4-2.5.2/fuzz/corpus/0fe8d630da208c92ae1a33832403baa1d5e0c8b8000066400000000000000000000207731364760661600222030ustar00rootroot00000000000000 lz4-2.5.2/fuzz/corpus/2c3c06f5c01917e29b1b7677f9c0160ba76cade7000066400000000000000000000020131364760661600221350ustar00rootroot00000000000000abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvzxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstulz4-2.5.2/fuzz/corpus/395df8f7c51f007019cb30201c49e884b46b92fa-1000066400000000000000000000000011364760661600221340ustar00rootroot00000000000000zlz4-2.5.2/fuzz/corpus/3af0d9f28847f713e8f0d6f3d76e883d18350228000066400000000000000000037774721364760661600220110ustar00rootroot00000000000000H)*ֽE4TXiU!"y !0 8V2[*/]οKHoɀh콶H_Rt%xRFuy%[&ˢ&lF_|2RnҦB<4w?o?ܸ }>_^E{km]&Lp 0W*u֝Z 1YȐ]J+O:2-U 5׌ m *fanVa.@ոTda꥚`_}!SdFO% ϖڈMȫk)B_^3ݠdW9OP-#daͮ^ Ӿmw VP8 1D,$#%' ջ o4gvNP#Qc}E#Wv_,cKYt5TVl>D3K$X,:*W}ąG >![F_rRj.s(4vл"D+/$uHkim4r]!;boŧƥE 5bOC1ut^tIh0:״"I8}(ٖ;l6)|}/V[Ӣ;mC㪹ЋK(hۅKb.>@[DЋ32@r hs 5h1̮fsس69MA0NW`'-{ѪT'TGrouڷbQo>^%׵FҋNzKEbҍter M\qTWslJL(ϙ Dm6\žSWSIJE6fpB2&?{~A:UaWP3ILutYO$YB &L,u+~DmK |3Wph1aW/I2?XcYy8/u_1]6b 8! =@C[lD"ƹb`KRJ+"**k/R~ƺ7KI)Bӯ3Q =!,yxׯMk-qo}ɅzS/tFPbJn\;꒼'#郙h( MF:`>e/W0CHs}>c8/R $}r3q?)݂mbJCx'b&< dOG6,R['q"k-*6»#z.Ha N#8ffK8H t<ozFx̵FC2[780m,^ER~}=jl商z;+E5VMZ2?4 #)0@:PlǞ{fg [%4SF*D2k-xNIL[șw'AEF `7#~VYes4Zj<b@B诟2΄: $V^Dz0aξσer.@8v+ﺒY\@@b[+"?I39lv.j`<IENJePʶO&!Y`*%`Ϙ|\ӭ$H`zO%gviO"@M\vSfNy+1UDW;C"z-;\Q ێQka36ʿ1Q:0mIyEZ_ő絯oFPb6!1m PVЭ+Ao4ZLV$"fD}tHFd}!+ opvNWEA3SnYQTeYu,Ⓧ}:Ӓ|7UIϑIhq{E?(3?[;;AQn=:n"AQnڇdjN c9zIDH-C<aPw'hz.f+]TK{^Xze<Ӱ|2᤯ M_wFX(v\ƙ"ԋzӞrŽj}R `!6^Ff'PI^H=OqH4C"N^Ld"rHevbþU\uܷ1%( UH2|:_)<./#ۼ4rA@p֕%LCF ۽ˌgz a嬽51eSXUc]?4KP]7t;y:i/+9VI{E! 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Author: Arthur Conan Doyle Posting Date: April 18, 2011 [EBook #1661] First Posted: November 29, 2002 Language: English *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES *** Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE I. A Scandal in Bohemia II. The Red-headed League III. A Case of Identity IV. The Boscombe Valley Mystery V. The Five Orange Pips VI. The Man with the Twisted Lip VII. The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle VIII. The Adventure of the Speckled Band IX. The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb X. The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor XI. The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet XII. The Adventure of the Copper Beeches ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA I. To Sherlock Holmes she is always THE woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer--excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory. I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion. One night--it was on the twentieth of March, 1888--I was returning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own. His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion. "Wedlock suits you," he remarked. "I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you." "Seven!" I answered. "Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness." "Then, how do you know?" "I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?" "My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much. You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out." He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together. "It is simplicity itself," said he; "my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession." I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his process of deduction. "When I hear you give your reasons," I remarked, "the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours." "Quite so," he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself down into an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room." "Frequently." "How often?" "Well, some hundreds of times." "Then how many are there?" "How many? I don't know." "Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed. By-the-way, since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this." He threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted note-paper which had been lying open upon the table. "It came by the last post," said he. "Read it aloud." The note was undated, and without either signature or address. "There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock," it said, "a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask." "This is indeed a mystery," I remarked. "What do you imagine that it means?" "I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?" I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written. "The man who wrote it was presumably well to do," I remarked, endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes. "Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff." "Peculiar--that is the very word," said Holmes. "It is not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light." I did so, and saw a large "E" with a small "g," a "P," and a large "G" with a small "t" woven into the texture of the paper. "What do you make of that?" asked Holmes. "The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather." "Not at all. The 'G' with the small 't' stands for 'Gesellschaft,' which is the German for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for 'Papier.' Now for the 'Eg.' Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer." He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz--here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking country--in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of that?" His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette. "The paper was made in Bohemia," I said. "Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence--'This account of you we have from all quarters received.' A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts." As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes whistled. "A pair, by the sound," said he. "Yes," he continued, glancing out of the window. "A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case, Watson, if there is nothing else." "I think that I had better go, Holmes." "Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it." "But your client--" "Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention." A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and authoritative tap. "Come in!" said Holmes. A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy. "You had my note?" he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly marked German accent. "I told you that I would call." He looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address. "Pray take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?" "You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone." I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. "It is both, or none," said he. "You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me." The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. "Then I must begin," said he, "by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history." "I promise," said Holmes. "And I." "You will excuse this mask," continued our strange visitor. "The august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own." "I was aware of it," said Holmes dryly. "The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia." "I was also aware of that," murmured Holmes, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes. Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client. "If your Majesty would condescend to state your case," he remarked, "I should be better able to advise you." The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. "You are right," he cried; "I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?" "Why, indeed?" murmured Holmes. "Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia." "But you can understand," said our strange visitor, sitting down once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, "you can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you." "Then, pray consult," said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more. "The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you." "Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor," murmured Holmes without opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish information. In this case I found her biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea fishes. "Let me see!" said Holmes. "Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858. Contralto--hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw--yes! Retired from operatic stage--ha! Living in London--quite so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back." "Precisely so. But how--" "Was there a secret marriage?" "None." "No legal papers or certificates?" "None." "Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity?" "There is the writing." "Pooh, pooh! Forgery." "My private note-paper." "Stolen." "My own seal." "Imitated." "My photograph." "Bought." "We were both in the photograph." "Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion." "I was mad--insane." "You have compromised yourself seriously." "I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now." "It must be recovered." "We have tried and failed." "Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought." "She will not sell." "Stolen, then." "Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has been waylaid. There has been no result." "No sign of it?" "Absolutely none." Holmes laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem," said he. "But a very serious one to me," returned the King reproachfully. "Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?" "To ruin me." "But how?" "I am about to be married." "So I have heard." "To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end." "And Irene Adler?" "Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go--none." "You are sure that she has not sent it yet?" "I am sure." "And why?" "Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday." "Oh, then we have three days yet," said Holmes with a yawn. "That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?" "Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count Von Kramm." "Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress." "Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety." "Then, as to money?" "You have carte blanche." "Absolutely?" "I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph." "And for present expenses?" The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table. "There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes," he said. Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it to him. "And Mademoiselle's address?" he asked. "Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood." Holmes took a note of it. "One other question," said he. "Was the photograph a cabinet?" "It was." "Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some good news for you. And good-night, Watson," he added, as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you." II. At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly after eight o'clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be. I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which were associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head. It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes. "Well, really!" he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair. "What is it?" "It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning, or what I ended by doing." "I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler." "Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely from every point of view, but without noting anything else of interest. "I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in exchange twopence, a glass of half and half, two fills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to listen to." "And what of Irene Adler?" I asked. "Oh, she has turned all the men's heads down in that part. She is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of campaign. "This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the situation." "I am following you closely," I answered. "I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached--evidently the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home. "He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly, 'Drive like the devil,' he shouted, 'first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!' "Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for. "'The Church of St. Monica, John,' she cried, 'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' "This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could object. 'The Church of St. Monica,' said I, 'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind. "My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but the others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me. "'Thank God,' he cried. 'You'll do. Come! Come!' "'What then?' I asked. "'Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won't be legal.' "I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. It seems that there had been some informality about their license, that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch-chain in memory of the occasion." "This is a very unexpected turn of affairs," said I; "and what then?" "Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. 'I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,' she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements." "Which are?" "Some cold beef and a glass of beer," he answered, ringing the bell. "I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation." "I shall be delighted." "You don't mind breaking the law?" "Not in the least." "Nor running a chance of arrest?" "Not in a good cause." "Oh, the cause is excellent!" "Then I am your man." "I was sure that I might rely on you." "But what is it you wish?" "When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you. Now," he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our landlady had provided, "I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her." "And what then?" "You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come what may. You understand?" "I am to be neutral?" "To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open window." "Yes." "You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you." "Yes." "And when I raise my hand--so--you will throw into the room what I give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire. You quite follow me?" "Entirely." "It is nothing very formidable," he said, taking a long cigar-shaped roll from his pocket. "It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-rocket, fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?" "I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street." "Precisely." "Then you may entirely rely on me." "That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare for the new role I have to play." He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime. It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes' succinct description, but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with cigars in their mouths. "You see," remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the house, "this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is, Where are we to find the photograph?" "Where, indeed?" "It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman's dress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her." "Where, then?" "Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house." "But it has twice been burgled." "Pshaw! They did not know how to look." "But how will you look?" "I will not look." "What then?" "I will get her to show me." "But she will refuse." "She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter." As he spoke the gleam of the side-lights of a carriage came round the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but just as he reached her he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better-dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking back into the street. "Is the poor gentleman much hurt?" she asked. "He is dead," cried several voices. "No, no, there's life in him!" shouted another. "But he'll be gone before you can get him to hospital." "He's a brave fellow," said a woman. "They would have had the lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a gang, and a rough one, too. Ah, he's breathing now." "He can't lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?" "Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please!" Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring another. Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!" The word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and ill--gentlemen, ostlers, and servant-maids--joined in a general shriek of "Fire!" Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road. "You did it very nicely, Doctor," he remarked. "Nothing could have been better. It is all right." "You have the photograph?" "I know where it is." "And how did you find out?" "She showed me, as I told you she would." "I am still in the dark." "I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The matter was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening." "I guessed as much." "Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick." "That also I could fathom." "Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your chance." "How did that help you?" "It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all." "And now?" I asked. "Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands." "And when will you call?" "At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay." We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: "Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes." There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by. "I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been." III. I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the room. "You have really got it!" he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face. "Not yet." "But you have hopes?" "I have hopes." "Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone." "We must have a cab." "No, my brougham is waiting." "Then that will simplify matters." We descended and started off once more for Briony Lodge. "Irene Adler is married," remarked Holmes. "Married! When?" "Yesterday." "But to whom?" "To an English lawyer named Norton." "But she could not love him." "I am in hopes that she does." "And why in hopes?" "Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with your Majesty's plan." "It is true. And yet--Well! I wish she had been of my own station! What a queen she would have made!" He relapsed into a moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue. The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the brougham. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?" said she. "I am Mr. Holmes," answered my companion, looking at her with a questioning and rather startled gaze. "Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for the Continent." "What!" Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. "Do you mean that she has left England?" "Never to return." "And the papers?" asked the King hoarsely. "All is lost." "We shall see." He pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to "Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for." My friend tore it open and we all three read it together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way: "MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,--You really did it very well. You took me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had been told that if the King employed an agent it would certainly be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you, ran up stairs, got into my walking-clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you departed. "Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for the Temple to see my husband. "We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, "Very truly yours, "IRENE NORTON, née ADLER." "What a woman--oh, what a woman!" cried the King of Bohemia, when we had all three read this epistle. "Did I not tell you how quick and resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?" "From what I have seen of the lady she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your Majesty," said Holmes coldly. "I am sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty's business to a more successful conclusion." "On the contrary, my dear sir," cried the King; "nothing could be more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire." "I am glad to hear your Majesty say so." "I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward you. This ring--" He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand. "Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly," said Holmes. "You have but to name it." "This photograph!" The King stared at him in amazement. "Irene's photograph!" he cried. "Certainly, if you wish it." "I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter. I have the honour to wish you a very good-morning." He bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand which the King had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers. And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a woman's wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honourable title of the woman. ADVENTURE II. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the autumn of last year and found him in deep conversation with a very stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me. "You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson," he said cordially. "I was afraid that you were engaged." "So I am. Very much so." "Then I can wait in the next room." "Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and helper in many of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also." The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small fat-encircled eyes. "Try the settee," said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and putting his fingertips together, as was his custom when in judicial moods. "I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life. You have shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many of my own little adventures." "Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me," I observed. "You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that for strange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go to life itself, which is always far more daring than any effort of the imagination." "A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting." "You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to my view, for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you until your reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to be right. Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this morning, and to begin a narrative which promises to be one of the most singular which I have listened to for some time. You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique things are very often connected not with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where there is room for doubt whether any positive crime has been committed. As far as I have heard it is impossible for me to say whether the present case is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events is certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would have the great kindness to recommence your narrative. I ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part but also because the peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have every possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of my belief, unique." The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, with his head thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his knee, I took a good look at the man and endeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, to read the indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance. I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey shepherd's check trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the man save his blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin and discontent upon his features. Sherlock Holmes' quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook his head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. "Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else." Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger upon the paper, but his eyes upon my companion. "How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?" he asked. "How did you know, for example, that I did manual labour. It's as true as gospel, for I began as a ship's carpenter." "Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger than your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed." "Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?" "I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you use an arc-and-compass breastpin." "Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?" "What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for five inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where you rest it upon the desk?" "Well, but China?" "The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist could only have been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject. That trick of staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter becomes even more simple." Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he. "I thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was nothing in it, after all." "I begin to think, Watson," said Holmes, "that I make a mistake in explaining. 'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,' you know, and my poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?" "Yes, I have got it now," he answered with his thick red finger planted halfway down the column. "Here it is. This is what began it all. You just read it for yourself, sir." I took the paper from him and read as follows: "TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of 4 pounds a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street." "What on earth does this mean?" I ejaculated after I had twice read over the extraordinary announcement. Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in high spirits. "It is a little off the beaten track, isn't it?" said he. "And now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us all about yourself, your household, and the effect which this advertisement had upon your fortunes. You will first make a note, Doctor, of the paper and the date." "It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two months ago." "Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?" "Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; "I have a small pawnbroker's business at Coburg Square, near the City. It's not a very large affair, and of late years it has not done more than just give me a living. I used to be able to keep two assistants, but now I only keep one; and I would have a job to pay him but that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn the business." "What is the name of this obliging youth?" asked Sherlock Holmes. "His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he's not such a youth, either. It's hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well that he could better himself and earn twice what I am able to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, why should I put ideas in his head?" "Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employé who comes under the full market price. It is not a common experience among employers in this age. I don't know that your assistant is not as remarkable as your advertisement." "Oh, he has his faults, too," said Mr. Wilson. "Never was such a fellow for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought to be improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar like a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures. That is his main fault, but on the whole he's a good worker. There's no vice in him." "He is still with you, I presume?" "Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking and keeps the place clean--that's all I have in the house, for I am a widower and never had any family. We live very quietly, sir, the three of us; and we keep a roof over our heads and pay our debts, if we do nothing more. "The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he says: "'I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.' "'Why that?' I asks. "'Why,' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of the Red-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men, so that the trustees are at their wits' end what to do with the money. If my hair would only change colour, here's a nice little crib all ready for me to step into.' "'Why, what is it, then?' I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a very stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of my having to go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over the door-mat. In that way I didn't know much of what was going on outside, and I was always glad of a bit of news. "'Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?' he asked with his eyes open. "'Never.' "'Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one of the vacancies.' "'And what are they worth?' I asked. "'Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, and it need not interfere very much with one's other occupations.' "Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for the business has not been over-good for some years, and an extra couple of hundred would have been very handy. "'Tell me all about it,' said I. "'Well,' said he, showing me the advertisement, 'you can see for yourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the address where you should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out, the League was founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins, who was very peculiar in his ways. He was himself red-headed, and he had a great sympathy for all red-headed men; so when he died it was found that he had left his enormous fortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions to apply the interest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is of that colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little to do.' "'But,' said I, 'there would be millions of red-headed men who would apply.' "'Not so many as you might think,' he answered. 'You see it is really confined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had started from London when he was young, and he wanted to do the old town a good turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use your applying if your hair is light red, or dark red, or anything but real bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk in; but perhaps it would hardly be worth your while to put yourself out of the way for the sake of a few hundred pounds.' "Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, that my hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed to me that if there was to be any competition in the matter I stood as good a chance as any man that I had ever met. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he might prove useful, so I just ordered him to put up the shutters for the day and to come right away with me. He was very willing to have a holiday, so we shut the business up and started off for the address that was given us in the advertisement. "I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. From north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked like a coster's orange barrow. I should not have thought there were so many in the whole country as were brought together by that single advertisement. Every shade of colour they were--straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay; but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how many were waiting, I would have given it up in despair; but Spaulding would not hear of it. How he did it I could not imagine, but he pushed and pulled and butted until he got me through the crowd, and right up to the steps which led to the office. There was a double stream upon the stair, some going up in hope, and some coming back dejected; but we wedged in as well as we could and soon found ourselves in the office." "Your experience has been a most entertaining one," remarked Holmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge pinch of snuff. "Pray continue your very interesting statement." "There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a deal table, behind which sat a small man with a head that was even redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidate as he came up, and then he always managed to find some fault in them which would disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem to be such a very easy matter, after all. However, when our turn came the little man was much more favourable to me than to any of the others, and he closed the door as we entered, so that he might have a private word with us. "'This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,' said my assistant, 'and he is willing to fill a vacancy in the League.' "'And he is admirably suited for it,' the other answered. 'He has every requirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine.' He took a step backward, cocked his head on one side, and gazed at my hair until I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly he plunged forward, wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly on my success. "'It would be injustice to hesitate,' said he. 'You will, however, I am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.' With that he seized my hair in both his hands, and tugged until I yelled with the pain. 'There is water in your eyes,' said he as he released me. 'I perceive that all is as it should be. But we have to be careful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs and once by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax which would disgust you with human nature.' He stepped over to the window and shouted through it at the top of his voice that the vacancy was filled. A groan of disappointment came up from below, and the folk all trooped away in different directions until there was not a red-head to be seen except my own and that of the manager. "'My name,' said he, 'is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of the pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are you a married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?' "I answered that I had not. "His face fell immediately. "'Dear me!' he said gravely, 'that is very serious indeed! I am sorry to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.' "My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was not to have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for a few minutes he said that it would be all right. "'In the case of another,' said he, 'the objection might be fatal, but we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such a head of hair as yours. When shall you be able to enter upon your new duties?' "'Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,' said I. "'Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding. 'I should be able to look after that for you.' "'What would be the hours?' I asked. "'Ten to two.' "Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an evening, Mr. Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday evening, which is just before pay-day; so it would suit me very well to earn a little in the mornings. Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good man, and that he would see to anything that turned up. "'That would suit me very well,' said I. 'And the pay?' "'Is 4 pounds a week.' "'And the work?' "'Is purely nominal.' "'What do you call purely nominal?' "'Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever. The will is very clear upon that point. You don't comply with the conditions if you budge from the office during that time.' "'It's only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,' said I. "'No excuse will avail,' said Mr. Duncan Ross; 'neither sickness nor business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose your billet.' "'And the work?' "'Is to copy out the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." There is the first volume of it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, and blotting-paper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you be ready to-morrow?' "'Certainly,' I answered. "'Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you once more on the important position which you have been fortunate enough to gain.' He bowed me out of the room and I went home with my assistant, hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased at my own good fortune. "Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such a will, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the 'Encyclopaedia Britannica.' Vincent Spaulding did what he could to cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the whole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look at it anyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a quill-pen, and seven sheets of foolscap paper, I started off for Pope's Court. "Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as possible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross was there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off upon the letter A, and then he left me; but he would drop in from time to time to see that all was right with me. At two o'clock he bade me good-day, complimented me upon the amount that I had written, and locked the door of the office after me. "This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the manager came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my week's work. It was the same next week, and the same the week after. Every morning I was there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took to coming in only once of a morning, and then, after a time, he did not come in at all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for an instant, for I was not sure when he might come, and the billet was such a good one, and suited me so well, that I would not risk the loss of it. "Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about Abbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and hoped with diligence that I might get on to the B's before very long. It cost me something in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with my writings. And then suddenly the whole business came to an end." "To an end?" "Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as usual at ten o'clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a little square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the panel with a tack. Here it is, and you can read for yourself." He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet of note-paper. It read in this fashion: THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED. October 9, 1890. Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the rueful face behind it, until the comical side of the affair so completely overtopped every other consideration that we both burst out into a roar of laughter. "I cannot see that there is anything very funny," cried our client, flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. "If you can do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere." "No, no," cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from which he had half risen. "I really wouldn't miss your case for the world. It is most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you will excuse my saying so, something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon the door?" "I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at the offices round, but none of them seemed to know anything about it. Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant living on the ground-floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of the Red-headed League. He said that he had never heard of any such body. Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the name was new to him. "'Well,' said I, 'the gentleman at No. 4.' "'What, the red-headed man?' "'Yes.' "'Oh,' said he, 'his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor and was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new premises were ready. He moved out yesterday.' "'Where could I find him?' "'Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 King Edward Street, near St. Paul's.' "I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was a manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross." "And what did you do then?" asked Holmes. "I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only say that if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not quite good enough, Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place without a struggle, so, as I had heard that you were good enough to give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, I came right away to you." "And you did very wisely," said Holmes. "Your case is an exceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. From what you have told me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang from it than might at first sight appear." "Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson. "Why, I have lost four pound a week." "As far as you are personally concerned," remarked Holmes, "I do not see that you have any grievance against this extraordinary league. On the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some 30 pounds, to say nothing of the minute knowledge which you have gained on every subject which comes under the letter A. You have lost nothing by them." "No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and what their object was in playing this prank--if it was a prank--upon me. It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them two and thirty pounds." "We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first, one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first called your attention to the advertisement--how long had he been with you?" "About a month then." "How did he come?" "In answer to an advertisement." "Was he the only applicant?" "No, I had a dozen." "Why did you pick him?" "Because he was handy and would come cheap." "At half-wages, in fact." "Yes." "What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?" "Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face, though he's not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon his forehead." Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. "I thought as much," said he. "Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced for earrings?" "Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he was a lad." "Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. "He is still with you?" "Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him." "And has your business been attended to in your absence?" "Nothing to complain of, sir. There's never very much to do of a morning." "That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an opinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is Saturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion." "Well, Watson," said Holmes when our visitor had left us, "what do you make of it all?" "I make nothing of it," I answered frankly. "It is a most mysterious business." "As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the less mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this matter." "What are you going to do, then?" I asked. "To smoke," he answered. "It is quite a three pipe problem, and I beg that you won't speak to me for fifty minutes." He curled himself up in his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to his hawk-like nose, and there he sat with his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird. I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep, and indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of his chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and put his pipe down upon the mantelpiece. "Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this afternoon," he remarked. "What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare you for a few hours?" "I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very absorbing." "Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City first, and we can have some lunch on the way. I observe that there is a good deal of German music on the programme, which is rather more to my taste than Italian or French. It is introspective, and I want to introspect. Come along!" We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky, little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-in enclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded laurel-bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with "JABEZ WILSON" in white letters, upon a corner house, announced the place where our red-headed client carried on his business. Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally he returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having thumped vigorously upon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went up to the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by a bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step in. "Thank you," said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you how you would go from here to the Strand." "Third right, fourth left," answered the assistant promptly, closing the door. "Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes as we walked away. "He is, in my judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known something of him before." "Evidently," said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a good deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you inquired your way merely in order that you might see him." "Not him." "What then?" "The knees of his trousers." "And what did you see?" "What I expected to see." "Why did you beat the pavement?" "My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We are spies in an enemy's country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square. Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it." The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back. It was one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City to the north and west. The roadway was blocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward, while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm of pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we looked at the line of fine shops and stately business premises that they really abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square which we had just quitted. "Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing along the line, "I should like just to remember the order of the houses here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London. There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane's carriage-building depot. That carries us right on to the other block. And now, Doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had some play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums." My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a very capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to the music, while his gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it was possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual nature alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness and astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him from extreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he was never so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his black-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning power would rise to the level of intuition, until those who were unacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. James's Hall I felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set himself to hunt down. "You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor," he remarked as we emerged. "Yes, it would be as well." "And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This business at Coburg Square is serious." "Why serious?" "A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being Saturday rather complicates matters. I shall want your help to-night." "At what time?" "Ten will be early enough." "I shall be at Baker Street at ten." "Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger, so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket." He waved his hand, turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd. I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to happen, while to me the whole business was still confused and grotesque. As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought over it all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headed copier of the "Encyclopaedia" down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg Square, and the ominous words with which he had parted from me. What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker's assistant was a formidable man--a man who might play a deep game. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside until night should bring an explanation. It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way across the Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker Street. Two hansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered the passage I heard the sound of voices from above. On entering his room I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men, one of whom I recognised as Peter Jones, the official police agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat. "Ha! Our party is complete," said Holmes, buttoning up his pea-jacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. "Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who is to be our companion in to-night's adventure." "We're hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see," said Jones in his consequential way. "Our friend here is a wonderful man for starting a chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do the running down." "I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase," observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily. "You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir," said the police agent loftily. "He has his own little methods, which are, if he won't mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic, but he has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to say that once or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has been more nearly correct than the official force." "Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right," said the stranger with deference. "Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my rubber." "I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes, "that you will play for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and that the play will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be some 30,000 pounds; and for you, Jones, it will be the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands." "John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He's a young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London. He's a remarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where to find the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next. I've been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him yet." "I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. I've had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I agree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however, and quite time that we started. If you two will take the first hansom, Watson and I will follow in the second." Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in the afternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streets until we emerged into Farrington Street. "We are close there now," my friend remarked. "This fellow Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the matter. I thought it as well to have Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession. He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone. Here we are, and they are waiting for us." We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had found ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage and through a side door, which he opened for us. Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, and led down a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all round with crates and massive boxes. "You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarked as he held up the lantern and gazed about him. "Nor from below," said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon the flags which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise. "I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmes severely. "You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?" The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a very injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his knees upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again and put his glass in his pocket. "We have at least an hour before us," he remarked, "for they can hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at present, Doctor--as no doubt you have divined--in the cellar of the City branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he will explain to you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of London should take a considerable interest in this cellar at present." "It is our French gold," whispered the director. "We have had several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it." "Your French gold?" "Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France. It has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack the money, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in a single branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the subject." "Which were very well justified," observed Holmes. "And now it is time that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr. Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern." "And sit in the dark?" "I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I thought that, as we were a partie carrée, you might have your rubber after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must choose our positions. These are daring men, and though we shall take them at a disadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are careful. I shall stand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down." I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness--such an absolute darkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault. "They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes. "That is back through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what I asked you, Jones?" "I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door." "Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent and wait." What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must have almost gone and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle breathing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing note of the bank director. From my position I could look over the case in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of a light. At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then it lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without any warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area of light. For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor. Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was dark again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink between the stones. Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending, tearing sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon its side and left a square, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then, with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. In another instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after him a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale face and a shock of very red hair. "It's all clear," he whispered. "Have you the chisel and the bags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for it!" Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar. The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes' hunting crop came down on the man's wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone floor. "It's no use, John Clay," said Holmes blandly. "You have no chance at all." "So I see," the other answered with the utmost coolness. "I fancy that my pal is all right, though I see you have got his coat-tails." "There are three men waiting for him at the door," said Holmes. "Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I must compliment you." "And I you," Holmes answered. "Your red-headed idea was very new and effective." "You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones. "He's quicker at climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the derbies." "I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands," remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. "You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness, also, when you address me always to say 'sir' and 'please.'" "All right," said Jones with a stare and a snigger. "Well, would you please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry your Highness to the police-station?" "That is better," said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow to the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the detective. "Really, Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them from the cellar, "I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most complete manner one of the most determined attempts at bank robbery that have ever come within my experience." "I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. John Clay," said Holmes. "I have been at some small expense over this matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in many ways unique, and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League." "You see, Watson," he explained in the early hours of the morning as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, "it was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of the League, and the copying of the 'Encyclopaedia,' must be to get this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number of hours every day. It was a curious way of managing it, but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was no doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colour of his accomplice's hair. The 4 pounds a week was a lure which must draw him, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands? They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporary office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, and together they manage to secure his absence every morning in the week. From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive for securing the situation." "But how could you guess what the motive was?" "Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man's business was a small one, and there was nothing in his house which could account for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant's fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London. He was doing something in the cellar--something which took many hours a day for months on end. What could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel to some other building. "So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other before. I hardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. You must yourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke of those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what they were burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on our friend's premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. When you drove home after the concert I called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank directors, with the result that you have seen." "And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?" I asked. "Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that they cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson's presence--in other words, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they should use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the bullion might be removed. Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it would give them two days for their escape. For all these reasons I expected them to come to-night." "You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration. "It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true." "It saved me from ennui," he answered, yawning. "Alas! I already feel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so." "And you are a benefactor of the race," said I. He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, perhaps, after all, it is of some little use," he remarked. "'L'homme c'est rien--l'oeuvre c'est tout,' as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand." ADVENTURE III. A CASE OF IDENTITY "My dear fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and leading to the most outré results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable." "And yet I am not convinced of it," I answered. "The cases which come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and vulgar enough. We have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic." "A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a realistic effect," remarked Holmes. "This is wanting in the police report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon the platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to an observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter. Depend upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace." I smiled and shook my head. "I can quite understand your thinking so," I said. "Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, you are brought in contact with all that is strange and bizarre. But here"--I picked up the morning paper from the ground--"let us put it to a practical test. Here is the first heading upon which I come. 'A husband's cruelty to his wife.' There is half a column of print, but I know without reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude." "Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument," said Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. "This is the Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged in clearing up some small points in connection with it. The husband was a teetotaler, there was no other woman, and the conduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit of winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurling them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an action likely to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller. Take a pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over you in your example." He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon it. "Ah," said he, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers." "And the ring?" I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which sparkled upon his finger. "It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even to you, who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of my little problems." "And have you any on hand just now?" I asked with interest. "Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of interest. They are important, you understand, without being interesting. Indeed, I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, as a rule, is the motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents any features of interest. It is possible, however, that I may have something better before very many minutes are over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken." He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted blinds gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a large woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck, and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her ear. From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous, hesitating fashion at our windows, while her body oscillated backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glove buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves the bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard the sharp clang of the bell. "I have seen those symptoms before," said Holmes, throwing his cigarette into the fire. "Oscillation upon the pavement always means an affaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is not sure that the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet even here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man she no longer oscillates, and the usual symptom is a broken bell wire. Here we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, or grieved. But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts." As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed merchant-man behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable, and, having closed the door and bowed her into an armchair, he looked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was peculiar to him. "Do you not find," he said, "that with your short sight it is a little trying to do so much typewriting?" "I did at first," she answered, "but now I know where the letters are without looking." Then, suddenly realising the full purport of his words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear and astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. "You've heard about me, Mr. Holmes," she cried, "else how could you know all that?" "Never mind," said Holmes, laughing; "it is my business to know things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook. If not, why should you come to consult me?" "I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had given him up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as much for me. I'm not rich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides the little that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel." "Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?" asked Sherlock Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes to the ceiling. Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss Mary Sutherland. "Yes, I did bang out of the house," she said, "for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. Windibank--that is, my father--took it all. He would not go to the police, and he would not go to you, and so at last, as he would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done, it made me mad, and I just on with my things and came right away to you." "Your father," said Holmes, "your stepfather, surely, since the name is different." "Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, too, for he is only five years and two months older than myself." "And your mother is alive?" "Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn't best pleased, Mr. Holmes, when she married again so soon after father's death, and a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy business behind him, which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell the business, for he was very superior, being a traveller in wines. They got 4700 pounds for the goodwill and interest, which wasn't near as much as father could have got if he had been alive." I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this rambling and inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he had listened with the greatest concentration of attention. "Your own little income," he asked, "does it come out of the business?" "Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle Ned in Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4 1/2 per cent. Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch the interest." "You interest me extremely," said Holmes. "And since you draw so large a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the bargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way. I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about 60 pounds." "I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you understand that as long as I live at home I don't wish to be a burden to them, and so they have the use of the money just while I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for the time. Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it over to mother, and I find that I can do pretty well with what I earn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and I can often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day." "You have made your position very clear to me," said Holmes. "This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about your connection with Mr. Hosmer Angel." A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face, and she picked nervously at the fringe of her jacket. "I met him first at the gasfitters' ball," she said. "They used to send father tickets when he was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us, and sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish us to go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I was set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all father's friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so much as taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do, he went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we went, mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our foreman, and it was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel." "I suppose," said Holmes, "that when Mr. Windibank came back from France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball." "Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying anything to a woman, for she would have her way." "I see. Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, a gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel." "Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if we had got home all safe, and after that we met him--that is to say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that father came back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house any more." "No?" "Well, you know father didn't like anything of the sort. He wouldn't have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say to mother, a woman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not got mine yet." "But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see you?" "Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each other until he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he used to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no need for father to know." "Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?" "Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we took. Hosmer--Mr. Angel--was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street--and--" "What office?" "That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don't know." "Where did he live, then?" "He slept on the premises." "And you don't know his address?" "No--except that it was Leadenhall Street." "Where did you address your letters, then?" "To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for. He said that if they were sent to the office he would be chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady, so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn't have that, for he said that when I wrote them they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten he always felt that the machine had come between us. That will just show you how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would think of." "It was most suggestive," said Holmes. "It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?" "He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to be conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was gentle. He'd had the quinsy and swollen glands when he was young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. He was always well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare." "Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, returned to France?" "Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest and made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would always be true to him. Mother said he was quite right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. Mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about father; but they both said never to mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with him. I didn't quite like that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, as he was only a few years older than me; but I didn't want to do anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the company has its French offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the wedding." "It missed him, then?" "Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived." "Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the Friday. Was it to be in church?" "Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, near King's Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a four-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in the street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one there! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since then to throw any light upon what became of him." "It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated," said Holmes. "Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it." "Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?" "Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened." "But you have no notion as to what it could have been?" "None." "One more question. How did your mother take the matter?" "She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again." "And your father? Did you tell him?" "Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him, there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night." She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob heavily into it. "I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life." "Then you don't think I'll see him again?" "I fear not." "Then what has happened to him?" "You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can spare." "I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle," said she. "Here is the slip and here are four letters from him." "Thank you. And your address?" "No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell." "Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is your father's place of business?" "He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of Fenchurch Street." "Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your life." "You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back." For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever she might be summoned. Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look of infinite languor in his face. "Quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "I found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in Andover in '77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me. But the maiden herself was most instructive." "You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible to me," I remarked. "Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. Now, what did you gather from that woman's appearance? Describe it." "Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her dress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were greyish and were worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots I didn't observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way." Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled. "'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and you have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to general impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. My first glance is always at a woman's sleeve. In a man it is perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As you observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most useful material for showing traces. The double line a little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and, observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed to surprise her." "It surprised me." "But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry." "And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by my friend's incisive reasoning. "I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving home but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. She had written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. It must have been this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger. All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?" I held the little printed slip to the light. "Missing," it said, "on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman named Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in the centre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted glasses, slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street. Anybody bringing--" "That will do," said Holmes. "As to the letters," he continued, glancing over them, "they are very commonplace. Absolutely no clue in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike you." "They are typewritten," I remarked. "Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the neat little 'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive--in fact, we may call it conclusive." "Of what?" "My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears upon the case?" "I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted." "No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the other is to the young lady's stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking him whether he could meet us here at six o'clock tomorrow evening. It is just as well that we should do business with the male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our little problem upon the shelf for the interim." I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that he must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy demeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he had been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known him to fail, in the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler photograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of the Sign of Four, and the extraordinary circumstances connected with the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it would be a strange tangle indeed which he could not unravel. I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would find that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up to the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary Sutherland. A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six o'clock that I found myself free and was able to spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too late to assist at the dénouement of the little mystery. I found Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin form curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him. "Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered. "Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta." "No, no, the mystery!" I cried. "Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some of the details are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel." "Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss Sutherland?" The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet opened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage and a tap at the door. "This is the girl's stepfather, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "He has written to me to say that he would be here at six. Come in!" The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating grey eyes. He shot a questioning glance at each of us, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair. "Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "I think that this typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an appointment with me for six o'clock?" "Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has troubled you about this little matter, for I think it is far better not to wash linen of the sort in public. It was quite against my wishes that she came, but she is a very excitable, impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is not easily controlled when she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, I did not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the official police, but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like this noised abroad. Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel?" "On the contrary," said Holmes quietly; "I have every reason to believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel." Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. "I am delighted to hear it," he said. "It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes, "that a typewriter has really quite as much individuality as a man's handwriting. Unless they are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike. Some letters get more worn than others, and some wear only on one side. Now, you remark in this note of yours, Mr. Windibank, that in every case there is some little slurring over of the 'e,' and a slight defect in the tail of the 'r.' There are fourteen other characteristics, but those are the more obvious." "We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and no doubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered, glancing keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes. "And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, Mr. Windibank," Holmes continued. "I think of writing another little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted some little attention. I have here four letters which purport to come from the missing man. They are all typewritten. In each case, not only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless, but you will observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteen other characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well." Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. "I cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes," he said. "If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done it." "Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in the door. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!" "What! where?" shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips and glancing about him like a rat in a trap. "Oh, it won't do--really it won't," said Holmes suavely. "There is no possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that it was impossible for me to solve so simple a question. That's right! Sit down and let us talk it over." Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a glitter of moisture on his brow. "It--it's not actionable," he stammered. "I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong." The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us. "The man married a woman very much older than himself for her money," said he, "and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter as long as she lived with them. It was a considerable sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would have made a serious difference. It was worth an effort to preserve it. The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident that with her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she would not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company of people of her own age. But soon he found that that would not answer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives an idea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With the connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself, covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face with a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of the girl's short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps off other lovers by making love himself." "It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor. "We never thought that she would have been so carried away." "Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never for an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by the gentleman's attentions, and the effect was increased by the loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel began to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. There were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the girl's affections from turning towards anyone else. But the deception could not be kept up forever. These pretended journeys to France were rather cumbrous. The thing to do was clearly to bring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner that it would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady's mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time to come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, and hence also the allusions to a possibility of something happening on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished Miss Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to his fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not listen to another man. As far as the church door he brought her, and then, as he could go no farther, he conveniently vanished away by the old trick of stepping in at one door of a four-wheeler and out at the other. I think that was the chain of events, Mr. Windibank!" Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes had been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold sneer upon his pale face. "It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes," said he, "but if you are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is you who are breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing actionable from the first, but as long as you keep that door locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegal constraint." "The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes, unlocking and throwing open the door, "yet there never was a man who deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!" he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treat myself to--" He took two swift steps to the whip, but before he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr. James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road. "There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing, as he threw himself down into his chair once more. "That fellow will rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad, and ends on a gallows. The case has, in some respects, been not entirely devoid of interest." "I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," I remarked. "Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curious conduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who really profited by the incident, as far as we could see, was the stepfather. Then the fact that the two men were never together, but that the one always appeared when the other was away, was suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice, which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in typewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that his handwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognise even the smallest sample of it. You see all these isolated facts, together with many minor ones, all pointed in the same direction." "And how did you verify them?" "Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I knew the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed description. I eliminated everything from it which could be the result of a disguise--the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I sent it to the firm, with a request that they would inform me whether it answered to the description of any of their travellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of the typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at his business address asking him if he would come here. As I expected, his reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but characteristic defects. The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the description tallied in every respect with that of their employé, James Windibank. Voilà tout!" "And Miss Sutherland?" "If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.' There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world." ADVENTURE IV. THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way: "Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by the 11:15." "What do you say, dear?" said my wife, looking across at me. "Will you go?" "I really don't know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present." "Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes' cases." "I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through one of them," I answered. "But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I have only half an hour." My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long grey travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap. "It is really very good of you to come, Watson," said he. "It makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets." We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack. "Have you heard anything of the case?" he asked. "Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days." "The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so extremely difficult." "That sounds a little paradoxical." "But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very serious case against the son of the murdered man." "It is a murder, then?" "Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very few words. "Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down they should do so as near each other as possible. Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants--a man and a girl. Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the families. Now for the facts. "On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of importance to keep at three. From that appointment he never came back alive. "From Hatherley Farm-house to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was an old woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was William Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred. "The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there she saw, at the border of the wood and close by the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son's gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the body. Under these circumstances the young man was instantly arrested, and a verdict of 'wilful murder' having been returned at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the police-court." "I could hardly imagine a more damning case," I remarked. "If ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here." "Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing," answered Holmes thoughtfully. "It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something entirely different. It must be confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is very possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, and among them Miss Turner, the daughter of the neighbouring landowner, who believe in his innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly digesting their breakfasts at home." "I am afraid," said I, "that the facts are so obvious that you will find little credit to be gained out of this case." "There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," he answered, laughing. "Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted even so self-evident a thing as that." "How on earth--" "My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness which characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this season you shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated than the other. I could not imagine a man of your habits looking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a result. I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and inference. Therein lies my métier, and it is just possible that it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out in the inquest, and which are worth considering." "What are they?" "It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after the return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not surprised to hear it, and that it was no more than his deserts. This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's jury." "It was a confession," I ejaculated. "No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence." "Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at least a most suspicious remark." "On the contrary," said Holmes, "it is the brightest rift which I can at present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were very black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I should have looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father, and that there is no doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a guilty one." I shook my head. "Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence," I remarked. "So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged." "What is the young man's own account of the matter?" "It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. You will find it here, and may read it for yourself." He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper, and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this way: "Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and gave evidence as follows: 'I had been away from home for three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday, the 3rd. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and, looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had no idea that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of "Cooee!" which was a usual signal between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and found him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground, with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner's lodge-keeper, his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far as I know, no active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.' "The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before he died? "Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion to a rat. "The Coroner: What did you understand by that? "Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was delirious. "The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father had this final quarrel? "Witness: I should prefer not to answer. "The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it. "Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed. "The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case considerably in any future proceedings which may arise. "Witness: I must still refuse. "The Coroner: I understand that the cry of 'Cooee' was a common signal between you and your father? "Witness: It was. "The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw you, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol? "Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know. "A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured? "Witness: Nothing definite. "The Coroner: What do you mean? "Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from my father I looked round for it, but it was gone. "'Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?' "'Yes, it was gone.' "'You cannot say what it was?' "'No, I had a feeling something was there.' "'How far from the body?' "'A dozen yards or so.' "'And how far from the edge of the wood?' "'About the same.' "'Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards of it?' "'Yes, but with my back towards it.' "This concluded the examination of the witness." "I see," said I as I glanced down the column, "that the coroner in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his father having signalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give details of his conversation with his father, and his singular account of his father's dying words. They are all, as he remarks, very much against the son." Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon the cushioned seat. "Both you and the coroner have been at some pains," said he, "to single out the very strongest points in the young man's favour. Don't you see that you alternately give him credit for having too much imagination and too little? Too little, if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from his own inner consciousness anything so outré as a dying reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in twenty minutes." It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after passing through the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a room had already been engaged for us. "I have ordered a carriage," said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea. "I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy until you had been on the scene of the crime." "It was very nice and complimentary of you," Holmes answered. "It is entirely a question of barometric pressure." Lestrade looked startled. "I do not quite follow," he said. "How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in the sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the sofa is very much superior to the usual country hotel abomination. I do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night." Lestrade laughed indulgently. "You have, no doubt, already formed your conclusions from the newspapers," he said. "The case is as plain as a pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes. Still, of course, one can't refuse a lady, and such a very positive one, too. She has heard of you, and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done. Why, bless my soul! here is her carriage at the door." He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the most lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her violet eyes shining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her cheeks, all thought of her natural reserve lost in her overpowering excitement and concern. "Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" she cried, glancing from one to the other of us, and finally, with a woman's quick intuition, fastening upon my companion, "I am so glad that you have come. I have driven down to tell you so. I know that James didn't do it. I know it, and I want you to start upon your work knowing it, too. Never let yourself doubt upon that point. We have known each other since we were little children, and I know his faults as no one else does; but he is too tender-hearted to hurt a fly. Such a charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him." "I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner," said Sherlock Holmes. "You may rely upon my doing all that I can." "But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion? Do you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself think that he is innocent?" "I think that it is very probable." "There, now!" she cried, throwing back her head and looking defiantly at Lestrade. "You hear! He gives me hopes." Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am afraid that my colleague has been a little quick in forming his conclusions," he said. "But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did it. And about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the reason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in it." "In what way?" asked Holmes. "It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had many disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that there should be a marriage between us. James and I have always loved each other as brother and sister; but of course he is young and has seen very little of life yet, and--and--well, he naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet. So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them." "And your father?" asked Holmes. "Was he in favour of such a union?" "No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favour of it." A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as Holmes shot one of his keen, questioning glances at her. "Thank you for this information," said he. "May I see your father if I call to-morrow?" "I am afraid the doctor won't allow it." "The doctor?" "Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for years back, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken to his bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his nervous system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive who had known dad in the old days in Victoria." "Ha! In Victoria! That is important." "Yes, at the mines." "Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner made his money." "Yes, certainly." "Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to me." "You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you will go to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him that I know him to be innocent." "I will, Miss Turner." "I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if I leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking." She hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we heard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street. "I am ashamed of you, Holmes," said Lestrade with dignity after a few minutes' silence. "Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound to disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel." "I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy," said Holmes. "Have you an order to see him in prison?" "Yes, but only for you and me." "Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have still time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?" "Ample." "Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but I shall only be away a couple of hours." I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel. The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the deep mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention wander so continually from the action to the fact, that I at last flung it across the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy young man's story were absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between the time when he parted from his father, and the moment when, drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was something terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts? I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper, which contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon's deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spot upon my own head. Clearly such a blow must have been struck from behind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as when seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still, it did not go for very much, for the older man might have turned his back before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to call Holmes' attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying reference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be delirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become delirious. No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how he met his fate. But what could it indicate? I cudgelled my brains to find some possible explanation. And then the incident of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy. If that were true the murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumably his overcoat, in his flight, and must have had the hardihood to return and to carry it away at the instant when the son was kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What a tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! I did not wonder at Lestrade's opinion, and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock Holmes' insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of young McCarthy's innocence. It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town. "The glass still keeps very high," he remarked as he sat down. "It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over the ground. On the other hand, a man should be at his very best and keenest for such nice work as that, and I did not wish to do it when fagged by a long journey. I have seen young McCarthy." "And what did you learn from him?" "Nothing." "Could he throw no light?" "None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew who had done it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced now that he is as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very quick-witted youth, though comely to look at and, I should think, sound at heart." "I cannot admire his taste," I remarked, "if it is indeed a fact that he was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as this Miss Turner." "Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was only a lad, and before he really knew her, for she had been away five years at a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get into the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a registry office? No one knows a word of the matter, but you can imagine how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not doing what he would give his very eyes to do, but what he knows to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of this sort which made him throw his hands up into the air when his father, at their last interview, was goading him on to propose to Miss Turner. On the other hand, he had no means of supporting himself, and his father, who was by all accounts a very hard man, would have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. It was with his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Mark that point. It is of importance. Good has come out of evil, however, for the barmaid, finding from the papers that he is in serious trouble and likely to be hanged, has thrown him over utterly and has written to him to say that she has a husband already in the Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is really no tie between them. I think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all that he has suffered." "But if he is innocent, who has done it?" "Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two points. One is that the murdered man had an appointment with someone at the pool, and that the someone could not have been his son, for his son was away, and he did not know when he would return. The second is that the murdered man was heard to cry 'Cooee!' before he knew that his son had returned. Those are the crucial points upon which the case depends. And now let us talk about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave all minor matters until to-morrow." There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke bright and cloudless. At nine o'clock Lestrade called for us with the carriage, and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool. "There is serious news this morning," Lestrade observed. "It is said that Mr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is despaired of." "An elderly man, I presume?" said Holmes. "About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life abroad, and he has been in failing health for some time. This business has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend of McCarthy's, and, I may add, a great benefactor to him, for I have learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free." "Indeed! That is interesting," said Holmes. "Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody about here speaks of his kindness to him." "Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this McCarthy, who appears to have had little of his own, and to have been under such obligations to Turner, should still talk of marrying his son to Turner's daughter, who is, presumably, heiress to the estate, and that in such a very cocksure manner, as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all else would follow? It is the more strange, since we know that Turner himself was averse to the idea. The daughter told us as much. Do you not deduce something from that?" "We have got to the deductions and the inferences," said Lestrade, winking at me. "I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, without flying away after theories and fancies." "You are right," said Holmes demurely; "you do find it very hard to tackle the facts." "Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult to get hold of," replied Lestrade with some warmth. "And that is--" "That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine." "Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog," said Holmes, laughing. "But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the left." "Yes, that is it." It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building, two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches of lichen upon the grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, gave it a stricken look, as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy upon it. We called at the door, when the maid, at Holmes' request, showed us the boots which her master wore at the time of his death, and also a pair of the son's, though not the pair which he had then had. Having measured these very carefully from seven or eight different points, Holmes desired to be led to the court-yard, from which we all followed the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool. Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. His face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and his mind was so absolutely concentrated upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a quick, impatient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way along the track which ran through the meadows, and so by way of the woods to the Boscombe Pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that district, and there were marks of many feet, both upon the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on either side. Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and once he made quite a little detour into the meadow. Lestrade and I walked behind him, the detective indifferent and contemptuous, while I watched my friend with the interest which sprang from the conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards a definite end. The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red, jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowner's dwelling. On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be read upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my companion. "What did you go into the pool for?" he asked. "I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon or other trace. But how on earth--" "Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its inward twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it. Here is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they have covered all tracks for six or eight feet round the body. But here are three separate tracks of the same feet." He drew out a lens and lay down upon his waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to himself than to us. "These are young McCarthy's feet. Twice he was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are the father's feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again--of course that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?" He ran up and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the highroad, where all traces were lost. "It has been a case of considerable interest," he remarked, returning to his natural manner. "I fancy that this grey house on the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently." It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had picked up in the wood. "This may interest you, Lestrade," he remarked, holding it out. "The murder was done with it." "I see no marks." "There are none." "How do you know, then?" "The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon." "And the murderer?" "Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us in our search." Lestrade laughed. "I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," he said. "Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headed British jury." "Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly. "You work your own method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, and shall probably return to London by the evening train." "And leave your case unfinished?" "No, finished." "But the mystery?" "It is solved." "Who was the criminal, then?" "The gentleman I describe." "But who is he?" "Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a populous neighbourhood." Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am a practical man," he said, "and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the laughing-stock of Scotland Yard." "All right," said Holmes quietly. "I have given you the chance. Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before I leave." Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds himself in a perplexing position. "Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared "just sit down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don't know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a cigar and let me expound." "Pray do so." "Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly, although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One was the fact that his father should, according to his account, cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but that was all that caught the son's ear. Now from this double point our research must commence, and we will begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true." "What of this 'Cooee!' then?" "Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that he was within earshot. The 'Cooee!' was meant to attract the attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia." "What of the rat, then?" Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened it out on the table. "This is a map of the Colony of Victoria," he said. "I wired to Bristol for it last night." He put his hand over part of the map. "What do you read?" "ARAT," I read. "And now?" He raised his hand. "BALLARAT." "Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat." "It is wonderful!" I exclaimed. "It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point which, granting the son's statement to be correct, was a certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak." "Certainly." "And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could hardly wander." "Quite so." "Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal." "But how did you gain them?" "You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles." "His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces." "Yes, they were peculiar boots." "But his lameness?" "The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped--he was lame." "But his left-handedness." "You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam." "And the cigar-holder?" "I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife." "Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this man from which he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the direction in which all this points. The culprit is--" "Mr. John Turner," cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor. The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and of character. His tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows combined to give an air of dignity and power to his appearance, but his face was of an ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease. "Pray sit down on the sofa," said Holmes gently. "You had my note?" "Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to see me here to avoid scandal." "I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall." "And why did you wish to see me?" He looked across at my companion with despair in his weary eyes, as though his question was already answered. "Yes," said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. "It is so. I know all about McCarthy." The old man sank his face in his hands. "God help me!" he cried. "But I would not have let the young man come to harm. I give you my word that I would have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes." "I am glad to hear you say so," said Holmes gravely. "I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It would break her heart--it will break her heart when she hears that I am arrested." "It may not come to that," said Holmes. "What?" "I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter who required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. Young McCarthy must be got off, however." "I am a dying man," said old Turner. "I have had diabetes for years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month. Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol." Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand and a bundle of paper before him. "Just tell us the truth," he said. "I shall jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson here can witness it. Then I could produce your confession at the last extremity to save young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutely needed." "It's as well," said the old man; "it's a question whether I shall live to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should wish to spare Alice the shock. And now I will make the thing clear to you; it has been a long time in the acting, but will not take me long to tell. "You didn't know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil incarnate. I tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he. His grip has been upon me these twenty years, and he has blasted my life. I'll tell you first how I came to be in his power. "It was in the early '60's at the diggings. I was a young chap then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what you would call over here a highway robber. There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station from time to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang. "One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the first volley. Three of our boys were killed, however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of the wagon-driver, who was this very man McCarthy. I wish to the Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him, though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, and made our way over to England without being suspected. There I parted from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in the market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money, to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married, too, and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice. Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down the right path as nothing else had ever done. In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All was going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me. "I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot. "'Here we are, Jack,' says he, touching me on the arm; 'we'll be as good as a family to you. There's two of us, me and my son, and you can have the keeping of us. If you don't--it's a fine, law-abiding country is England, and there's always a policeman within hail.' "Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking them off, and there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since. There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; turn where I would, there was his cunning, grinning face at my elbow. It grew worse as Alice grew up, for he soon saw I was more afraid of her knowing my past than of the police. Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave him without question, land, money, houses, until at last he asked a thing which I could not give. He asked for Alice. "His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I was known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that his lad should step into the whole property. But there I was firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him, and that was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do his worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between our houses to talk it over. "When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. But as I listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed to come uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as little regard for what she might think as if she were a slut from off the streets. It drove me mad to think that I and all that I held most dear should be in the power of such a man as this. Could I not snap the bond? I was already a dying and a desperate man. Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, I knew that my own fate was sealed. But my memory and my girl! Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue. I did it, Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have sinned, I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it. But that my girl should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more than I could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction than if he had been some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought back his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood, though I was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in my flight. That is the true story, gentlemen, of all that occurred." "Well, it is not for me to judge you," said Holmes as the old man signed the statement which had been drawn out. "I pray that we may never be exposed to such a temptation." "I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?" "In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes. I will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is condemned I shall be forced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and your secret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us." "Farewell, then," said the old man solemnly. "Your own deathbeds, when they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace which you have given to mine." Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame, he stumbled slowly from the room. "God help us!" said Holmes after a long silence. "Why does fate play such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words, and say, 'There, but for the grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.'" James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven months after our interview, but he is now dead; and there is every prospect that the son and daughter may come to live happily together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their past. ADVENTURE V. THE FIVE ORANGE PIPS When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases between the years '82 and '90, I am faced by so many which present strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know which to choose and which to leave. Some, however, have already gained publicity through the papers, and others have not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed in so high a degree, and which it is the object of these papers to illustrate. Some, too, have baffled his analytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without an ending, while others have been but partially cleared up, and have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to him. There is, however, one of these last which was so remarkable in its details and so startling in its results that I am tempted to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are points in connection with it which never have been, and probably never will be, entirely cleared up. The year '87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater or less interest, of which I retain the records. Among my headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of the British barque "Sophy Anderson", of the singular adventures of the Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the Camberwell poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man's watch, to prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and that therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time--a deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the case. All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none of them present such singular features as the strange train of circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe. It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence of those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the other was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea-stories until the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother's, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street. "Why," said I, glancing up at my companion, "that was surely the bell. Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?" "Except yourself I have none," he answered. "I do not encourage visitors." "A client, then?" "If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out on such a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more likely to be some crony of the landlady's." Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit. "Come in!" said he. The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside, well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and delicacy in his bearing. The streaming umbrella which he held in his hand, and his long shining waterproof told of the fierce weather through which he had come. He looked about him anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man who is weighed down with some great anxiety. "I owe you an apology," he said, raising his golden pince-nez to his eyes. "I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I have brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug chamber." "Give me your coat and umbrella," said Holmes. "They may rest here on the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up from the south-west, I see." "Yes, from Horsham." "That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite distinctive." "I have come for advice." "That is easily got." "And help." "That is not always so easy." "I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergast how you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal." "Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards." "He said that you could solve anything." "He said too much." "That you are never beaten." "I have been beaten four times--three times by men, and once by a woman." "But what is that compared with the number of your successes?" "It is true that I have been generally successful." "Then you may be so with me." "I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me with some details as to your case." "It is no ordinary one." "None of those which come to me are. I am the last court of appeal." "And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events than those which have happened in my own family." "You fill me with interest," said Holmes. "Pray give us the essential facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards question you as to those details which seem to me to be most important." The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out towards the blaze. "My name," said he, "is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have, as far as I can understand, little to do with this awful business. It is a hereditary matter; so in order to give you an idea of the facts, I must go back to the commencement of the affair. "You must know that my grandfather had two sons--my uncle Elias and my father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry, which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. He was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his business met with such success that he was able to sell it and to retire upon a handsome competence. "My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and became a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have done very well. At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's army, and afterwards under Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. When Lee laid down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation, where he remained for three or four years. About 1869 or 1870 he came back to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex, near Horsham. He had made a very considerable fortune in the States, and his reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes, and his dislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise to them. He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, very foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiring disposition. During all the years that he lived at Horsham, I doubt if ever he set foot in the town. He had a garden and two or three fields round his house, and there he would take his exercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never leave his room. He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very heavily, but he would see no society and did not want any friends, not even his own brother. "He didn't mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. This would be in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years in England. He begged my father to let me live with him and he was very kind to me in his way. When he was sober he used to be fond of playing backgammon and draughts with me, and he would make me his representative both with the servants and with the tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite master of the house. I kept all the keys and could go where I liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in his privacy. There was one singular exception, however, for he had a single room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was invariably locked, and which he would never permit either me or anyone else to enter. With a boy's curiosity I have peeped through the keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such a collection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such a room. "One day--it was in March, 1883--a letter with a foreign stamp lay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate. It was not a common thing for him to receive letters, for his bills were all paid in ready money, and he had no friends of any sort. 'From India!' said he as he took it up, 'Pondicherry postmark! What can this be?' Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped five little dried orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate. I began to laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight of his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, his skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which he still held in his trembling hand, 'K. K. K.!' he shrieked, and then, 'My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!' "'What is it, uncle?' I cried. "'Death,' said he, and rising from the table he retired to his room, leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the letter K three times repeated. There was nothing else save the five dried pips. What could be the reason of his overpowering terror? I left the breakfast-table, and as I ascended the stair I met him coming down with an old rusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a small brass box, like a cashbox, in the other. "'They may do what they like, but I'll checkmate them still,' said he with an oath. 'Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.' "I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to step up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass box stood open and empty beside it. As I glanced at the box I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the envelope. "'I wish you, John,' said my uncle, 'to witness my will. I leave my estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. I am sorry to give you such a two-edged thing, but I can't say what turn things are going to take. Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.' "I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him. The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind without being able to make anything of it. Yet I could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left behind, though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives. I could see a change in my uncle, however. He drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of society. Most of his time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon the inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man, and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by man or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a man who can brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies at the roots of his soul. At such times I have seen his face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin. "Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunken sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went to search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of 'suicide.' But I, who knew how he winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed, however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and of some 14,000 pounds, which lay to his credit at the bank." "One moment," Holmes interposed, "your statement is, I foresee, one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of his supposed suicide." "The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks later, upon the night of May 2nd." "Thank you. Pray proceed." "When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up. We found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed. On the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and 'Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register' written beneath. These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle's life in America. Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier. Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North. "Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my father came to live at Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of '85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There he was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at what he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon himself. "'Why, what on earth does this mean, John?' he stammered. "My heart had turned to lead. 'It is K. K. K.,' said I. "He looked inside the envelope. 'So it is,' he cried. 'Here are the very letters. But what is this written above them?' "'Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over his shoulder. "'What papers? What sundial?' he asked. "'The sundial in the garden. There is no other,' said I; 'but the papers must be those that are destroyed.' "'Pooh!' said he, gripping hard at his courage. 'We are in a civilised land here, and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind. Where does the thing come from?' "'From Dundee,' I answered, glancing at the postmark. "'Some preposterous practical joke,' said he. 'What have I to do with sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such nonsense.' "'I should certainly speak to the police,' I said. "'And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.' "'Then let me do so?' "'No, I forbid you. I won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.' "It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate man. I went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings. "On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went from home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from danger when he was away from home. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to come at once. My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. I hurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recovered his consciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning from Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him, and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'death from accidental causes.' Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death, I was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of murder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery, no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads. And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been woven round him. "In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me why I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my uncle's life, and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another. "It was in January, '85, that my poor father met his end, and two years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that this curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended with the last generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon, however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in which it had come upon my father." The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange pips. "This is the envelope," he continued. "The postmark is London--eastern division. Within are the very words which were upon my father's last message: 'K. K. K.'; and then 'Put the papers on the sundial.'" "What have you done?" asked Holmes. "Nothing." "Nothing?" "To tell the truth"--he sank his face into his thin, white hands--"I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can guard against." "Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you are lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for despair." "I have seen the police." "Ah!" "But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with the warnings." Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. "Incredible imbecility!" he cried. "They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in the house with me." "Has he come with you to-night?" "No. His orders were to stay in the house." Again Holmes raved in the air. "Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did you not come at once?" "I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to you." "It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have acted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail which might help us?" "There is one thing," said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted paper, he laid it out upon the table. "I have some remembrance," said he, "that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheet upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think myself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing is undoubtedly my uncle's." Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the following enigmatical notices: "4th. Hudson came. Same old platform. "7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and John Swain, of St. Augustine. "9th. McCauley cleared. "10th. John Swain cleared. "12th. Visited Paramore. All well." "Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it to our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose another instant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told me. You must get home instantly and act." "What shall I do?" "There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which you have described. You must also put in a note to say that all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and that this is the only one which remains. You must assert that in such words as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, you must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Do you understand?" "Entirely." "Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens you. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the guilty parties." "I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on his overcoat. "You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall certainly do as you advise." "Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you go back?" "By train from Waterloo." "It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely." "I am armed." "That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case." "I shall see you at Horsham, then?" "No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it." "Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every particular." He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by them once more. Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling. "I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this." "Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four." "Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos." "But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to what these perils are?" "There can be no question as to their nature," he answered. "Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue this unhappy family?" Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the arms of his chair, with his finger-tips together. "The ideal reasoner," he remarked, "would, when he had once been shown a single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and this in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so impossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I have endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits in a very precise fashion." "Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document. Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the main points of my analysis." Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," he said, "I say now, as I said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which has been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K of the 'American Encyclopaedia' which stands upon the shelf beside you. Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for the lonely life of an English provincial town. His extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of someone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from America. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that by considering the formidable letters which were received by himself and his successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?" "The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the third from London." "From East London. What do you deduce from that?" "They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship." "Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that the probability--the strong probability--is that the writer was on board of a ship. And now let us consider another point. In the case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days. Does that suggest anything?" "A greater distance to travel." "But the letter had also a greater distance to come." "Then I do not see the point." "There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or men are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send their singular warning or token before them when starting upon their mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee. If they had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter. But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. I think that those seven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat which brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the writer." "It is possible." "More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly urgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to caution. The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which it would take the senders to travel the distance. But this one comes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay." "Good God!" I cried. "What can it mean, this relentless persecution?" "The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them. A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner's jury. There must have been several in it, and they must have been men of resource and determination. Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may. In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society." "But of what society?" "Have you never--" said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and sinking his voice--"have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?" "I never have." Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. "Here it is," said he presently: "'Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to the sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret society was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the Southern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed local branches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power was used for political purposes, principally for the terrorising of the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country of those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usually preceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic but generally recognised shape--a sprig of oak-leaves in some parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this the victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or might fly from the country. If he braved the matter out, death would unfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner. So perfect was the organisation of the society, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly a case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it with impunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the perpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spite of the efforts of the United States government and of the better classes of the community in the South. Eventually, in the year 1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there have been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.' "You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "that the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may well have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. You can understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the first men in the South, and that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered." "Then the page we have seen--" "Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, 'sent the pips to A, B, and C'--that is, sent the society's warning to them. Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or left the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into this dark place, and I believe that the only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I have told him. There is nothing more to be said or to be done to-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellow-men." It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city. Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down. "You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I have, I foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of young Openshaw's." "What steps will you take?" I asked. "It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I may have to go down to Horsham, after all." "You will not go there first?" "No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the maid will bring up your coffee." As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and glanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a chill to my heart. "Holmes," I cried, "you are too late." "Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much. How was it done?" He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved. "My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'Tragedy Near Waterloo Bridge.' Here is the account: "Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and a splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and stormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it was quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was given, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was eventually recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket, was John Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catch the last train from Waterloo Station, and that in his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge of one of the small landing-places for river steamboats. The body exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident, which should have the effect of calling the attention of the authorities to the condition of the riverside landing-stages." We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken than I had ever seen him. "That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last. "It is a petty feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my hand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that I should send him away to his death--!" He sprang from his chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin hands. "They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How could they have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the direct line to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such a night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in the long run. I am going out now!" "To the police?" "No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take the flies, but not before." All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes had not come back yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before he entered, looking pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously, washing it down with a long draught of water. "You are hungry," I remarked. "Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since breakfast." "Nothing?" "Not a bite. I had no time to think of it." "And how have you succeeded?" "Well." "You have a clue?" "I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall not long remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish trade-mark upon them. It is well thought of!" "What do you mean?" He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he squeezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five and thrust them into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote "S. H. for J. O." Then he sealed it and addressed it to "Captain James Calhoun, Barque 'Lone Star,' Savannah, Georgia." "That will await him when he enters port," said he, chuckling. "It may give him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure a precursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him." "And who is this Captain Calhoun?" "The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first." "How did you trace it, then?" He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with dates and names. "I have spent the whole day," said he, "over Lloyd's registers and files of the old papers, following the future career of every vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in '83. There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during those months. Of these, one, the 'Lone Star,' instantly attracted my attention, since, although it was reported as having cleared from London, the name is that which is given to one of the states of the Union." "Texas, I think." "I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must have an American origin." "What then?" "I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque 'Lone Star' was there in January, '85, my suspicion became a certainty. I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present in the port of London." "Yes?" "The 'Lone Star' had arrived here last week. I went down to the Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by the early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired to Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, and as the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight." "What will you do, then?" "Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as I learn, the only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are Finns and Germans. I know, also, that they were all three away from the ship last night. I had it from the stevedore who has been loading their cargo. By the time that their sailing-ship reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter, and the cable will have informed the police of Savannah that these three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder." There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, and the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the orange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and as resolute as themselves, was upon their track. Very long and very severe were the equinoctial gales that year. We waited long for news of the "Lone Star" of Savannah, but none ever reached us. We did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a shattered stern-post of a boat was seen swinging in the trough of a wave, with the letters "L. S." carved upon it, and that is all which we shall ever know of the fate of the "Lone Star." ADVENTURE VI. THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP Isa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal of the Theological College of St. George's, was much addicted to opium. The habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some foolish freak when he was at college; for having read De Quincey's description of his dreams and sensations, he had drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the same effects. He found, as so many more have done, that the practice is easier to attain than to get rid of, and for many years he continued to be a slave to the drug, an object of mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see him now, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble man. One night--it was in June, '89--there came a ring to my bell, about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock. I sat up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment. "A patient!" said she. "You'll have to go out." I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day. We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room. "You will excuse my calling so late," she began, and then, suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms about my wife's neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. "Oh, I'm in such trouble!" she cried; "I do so want a little help." "Why," said my wife, pulling up her veil, "it is Kate Whitney. How you startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when you came in." "I didn't know what to do, so I came straight to you." That was always the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a light-house. "It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine and water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Or should you rather that I sent James off to bed?" "Oh, no, no! I want the doctor's advice and help, too. It's about Isa. He has not been home for two days. I am so frightened about him!" It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her husband's trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend and school companion. We soothed and comforted her by such words as we could find. Did she know where her husband was? Was it possible that we could bring him back to her? It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late he had, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in the farthest east of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been confined to one day, and he had come back, twitching and shattered, in the evening. But now the spell had been upon him eight-and-forty hours, and he lay there, doubtless among the dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison or sleeping off the effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of it, at the Bar of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? How could she, a young and timid woman, make her way into such a place and pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him? There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of it. Might I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second thought, why should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney's medical adviser, and as such I had influence over him. I could manage it better if I were alone. I promised her on my word that I would send him home in a cab within two hours if he were indeed at the address which she had given me. And so in ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me, and was speeding eastward in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed to me at the time, though the future only could show how strange it was to be. But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure. Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which line the north side of the river to the east of London Bridge. Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the mouth of a cave, I found the den of which I was in search. Ordering my cab to wait, I passed down the steps, worn hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door I found the latch and made my way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with the brown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the forecastle of an emigrant ship. Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying in strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads thrown back, and chins pointing upward, with here and there a dark, lack-lustre eye turned upon the newcomer. Out of the black shadows there glimmered little red circles of light, now bright, now faint, as the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of the metal pipes. The most lay silent, but some muttered to themselves, and others talked together in a strange, low, monotonous voice, their conversation coming in gushes, and then suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out his own thoughts and paying little heed to the words of his neighbour. At the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thin old man, with his jaw resting upon his two fists, and his elbows upon his knees, staring into the fire. As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe for me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth. "Thank you. I have not come to stay," said I. "There is a friend of mine here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him." There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and peering through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and unkempt, staring out at me. "My God! It's Watson," said he. He was in a pitiable state of reaction, with every nerve in a twitter. "I say, Watson, what o'clock is it?" "Nearly eleven." "Of what day?" "Of Friday, June 19th." "Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What d'you want to frighten a chap for?" He sank his face onto his arms and began to sob in a high treble key. "I tell you that it is Friday, man. Your wife has been waiting this two days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself!" "So I am. But you've got mixed, Watson, for I have only been here a few hours, three pipes, four pipes--I forget how many. But I'll go home with you. I wouldn't frighten Kate--poor little Kate. Give me your hand! Have you a cab?" "Yes, I have one waiting." "Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find what I owe, Watson. I am all off colour. I can do nothing for myself." I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers, holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefying fumes of the drug, and looking about for the manager. As I passed the tall man who sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my skirt, and a low voice whispered, "Walk past me, and then look back at me." The words fell quite distinctly upon my ear. I glanced down. They could only have come from the old man at my side, and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever, very thin, very wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling down from between his knees, as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from his fingers. I took two steps forward and looked back. It took all my self-control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry of astonishment. He had turned his back so that none could see him but I. His form had filled out, his wrinkles were gone, the dull eyes had regained their fire, and there, sitting by the fire and grinning at my surprise, was none other than Sherlock Holmes. He made a slight motion to me to approach him, and instantly, as he turned his face half round to the company once more, subsided into a doddering, loose-lipped senility. "Holmes!" I whispered, "what on earth are you doing in this den?" "As low as you can," he answered; "I have excellent ears. If you would have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend of yours I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with you." "I have a cab outside." "Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for he appears to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to say that you have thrown in your lot with me. If you will wait outside, I shall be with you in five minutes." It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes' requests, for they were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with such a quiet air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney was once confined in the cab my mission was practically accomplished; and for the rest, I could not wish anything better than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular adventures which were the normal condition of his existence. In a few minutes I had written my note, paid Whitney's bill, led him out to the cab, and seen him driven through the darkness. In a very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den, and I was walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes. For two streets he shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot. Then, glancing quickly round, he straightened himself out and burst into a hearty fit of laughter. "I suppose, Watson," said he, "that you imagine that I have added opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical views." "I was certainly surprised to find you there." "But not more so than I to find you." "I came to find a friend." "And I to find an enemy." "An enemy?" "Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural prey. Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry, and I have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblings of these sots, as I have done before now. Had I been recognised in that den my life would not have been worth an hour's purchase; for I have used it before now for my own purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it has sworn to have vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back of that building, near the corner of Paul's Wharf, which could tell some strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless nights." "What! You do not mean bodies?" "Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had 1000 pounds for every poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilest murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Neville St. Clair has entered it never to leave it more. But our trap should be here." He put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly--a signal which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance, followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses' hoofs. "Now, Watson," said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side lanterns. "You'll come with me, won't you?" "If I can be of use." "Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one." "The Cedars?" "Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair's house. I am staying there while I conduct the inquiry." "Where is it, then?" "Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us." "But I am all in the dark." "Of course you are. You'll know all about it presently. Jump up here. All right, John; we shall not need you. Here's half a crown. Look out for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her head. So long, then!" He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which widened gradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge, with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only by the heavy, regular footfall of the policeman, or the songs and shouts of some belated party of revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with his head sunk upon his breast, and the air of a man who is lost in thought, while I sat beside him, curious to learn what this new quest might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to break in upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several miles, and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of suburban villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and lit up his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that he is acting for the best. "You have a grand gift of silence, Watson," said he. "It makes you quite invaluable as a companion. 'Pon my word, it is a great thing for me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear little woman to-night when she meets me at the door." "You forget that I know nothing about it." "I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before we get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can get nothing to go upon. There's plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can't get the end of it into my hand. Now, I'll state the case clearly and concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all is dark to me." "Proceed, then." "Some years ago--to be definite, in May, 1884--there came to Lee a gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, and lived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends in the neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer, by whom he now has two children. He had no occupation, but was interested in several companies and went into town as a rule in the morning, returning by the 5:14 from Cannon Street every night. Mr. St. Clair is now thirty-seven years of age, is a man of temperate habits, a good husband, a very affectionate father, and a man who is popular with all who know him. I may add that his whole debts at the present moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to 88 pounds 10s., while he has 220 pounds standing to his credit in the Capital and Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money troubles have been weighing upon his mind. "Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier than usual, remarking before he started that he had two important commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his wife received a telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after his departure, to the effect that a small parcel of considerable value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Now, if you are well up in your London, you will know that the office of the company is in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where you found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair had her lunch, started for the City, did some shopping, proceeded to the company's office, got her packet, and found herself at exactly 4:35 walking through Swandam Lane on her way back to the station. Have you followed me so far?" "It is very clear." "If you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and Mrs. St. Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, as she did not like the neighbourhood in which she found herself. While she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane, she suddenly heard an ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see her husband looking down at her and, as it seemed to her, beckoning to her from a second-floor window. The window was open, and she distinctly saw his face, which she describes as being terribly agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her, and then vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind. One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started to town in, he had on neither collar nor necktie. "Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the steps--for the house was none other than the opium den in which you found me to-night--and running through the front room she attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the first floor. At the foot of the stairs, however, she met this Lascar scoundrel of whom I have spoken, who thrust her back and, aided by a Dane, who acts as assistant there, pushed her out into the street. Filled with the most maddening doubts and fears, she rushed down the lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno Street a number of constables with an inspector, all on their way to their beat. The inspector and two men accompanied her back, and in spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor, they made their way to the room in which Mr. St. Clair had last been seen. There was no sign of him there. In fact, in the whole of that floor there was no one to be found save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who, it seems, made his home there. Both he and the Lascar stoutly swore that no one else had been in the front room during the afternoon. So determined was their denial that the inspector was staggered, and had almost come to believe that Mrs. St. Clair had been deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at a small deal box which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it. Out there fell a cascade of children's bricks. It was the toy which he had promised to bring home. "This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple showed, made the inspector realise that the matter was serious. The rooms were carefully examined, and results all pointed to an abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves. Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but is covered at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water. The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below. On examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill, and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were all the clothes of Mr. Neville St. Clair, with the exception of his coat. His boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch--all were there. There were no signs of violence upon any of these garments, and there were no other traces of Mr. Neville St. Clair. Out of the window he must apparently have gone for no other exit could be discovered, and the ominous bloodstains upon the sill gave little promise that he could save himself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of the tragedy. "And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in the matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the vilest antecedents, but as, by Mrs. St. Clair's story, he was known to have been at the foot of the stair within a very few seconds of her husband's appearance at the window, he could hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime. His defence was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested that he had no knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and that he could not account in any way for the presence of the missing gentleman's clothes. "So much for the Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who lives upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St. Clair. His name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is one which is familiar to every man who goes much to the City. He is a professional beggar, though in order to avoid the police regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. Some little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the left-hand side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall. Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat, cross-legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he is a piteous spectacle a small rain of charity descends into the greasy leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I have watched the fellow more than once before ever I thought of making his professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time. His appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him without observing him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its contraction, has turned up the outer edge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a singular contrast to the colour of his hair, all mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does his wit, for he is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be thrown at him by the passers-by. This is the man whom we now learn to have been the lodger at the opium den, and to have been the last man to see the gentleman of whom we are in quest." "But a cripple!" said I. "What could he have done single-handed against a man in the prime of life?" "He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in other respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man. Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that weakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional strength in the others." "Pray continue your narrative." "Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window, and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as her presence could be of no help to them in their investigations. Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very careful examination of the premises, but without finding anything which threw any light upon the matter. One mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly, as he was allowed some few minutes during which he might have communicated with his friend the Lascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized and searched, without anything being found which could incriminate him. There were, it is true, some blood-stains upon his right shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which had been cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came from there, adding that he had been to the window not long before, and that the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from the same source. He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr. Neville St. Clair and swore that the presence of the clothes in his room was as much a mystery to him as to the police. As to Mrs. St. Clair's assertion that she had actually seen her husband at the window, he declared that she must have been either mad or dreaming. He was removed, loudly protesting, to the police-station, while the inspector remained upon the premises in the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue. "And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they had feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair's coat, and not Neville St. Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. And what do you think they found in the pockets?" "I cannot imagine." "No, I don't think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed with pennies and half-pennies--421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. It was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide. But a human body is a different matter. There is a fierce eddy between the wharf and the house. It seemed likely enough that the weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked away into the river." "But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the room. Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?" "No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose that this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through the window, there is no human eye which could have seen the deed. What would he do then? It would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the tell-tale garments. He would seize the coat, then, and be in the act of throwing it out, when it would occur to him that it would swim and not sink. He has little time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when the wife tried to force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard from his Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street. There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret hoard, where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the pockets to make sure of the coat's sinking. He throws it out, and would have done the same with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below, and only just had time to close the window when the police appeared." "It certainly sounds feasible." "Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better. Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but it could not be shown that there had ever before been anything against him. He had for years been known as a professional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one. There the matter stands at present, and the questions which have to be solved--what Neville St. Clair was doing in the opium den, what happened to him when there, where is he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance--are all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at the first glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties." While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled along with a country hedge upon either side of us. Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scattered villages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows. "We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion. "We have touched on three English counties in our short drive, starting in Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. See that light among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I have little doubt, caught the clink of our horse's feet." "But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?" I asked. "Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for my friend and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!" We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse's head, and springing down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive which led to the house. As we approached, the door flew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her head and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing question. "Well?" she cried, "well?" And then, seeing that there were two of us, she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "No good news?" "None." "No bad?" "No." "Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have had a long day." "This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to bring him out and associate him with this investigation." "I am delighted to see you," said she, pressing my hand warmly. "You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly upon us." "My dear madam," said I, "I am an old campaigner, and if I were not I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be indeed happy." "Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the lady as we entered a well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had been laid out, "I should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plain answer." "Certainly, madam." "Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion." "Upon what point?" "In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?" Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. "Frankly, now!" she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair. "Frankly, then, madam, I do not." "You think that he is dead?" "I do." "Murdered?" "I don't say that. Perhaps." "And on what day did he meet his death?" "On Monday." "Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how it is that I have received a letter from him to-day." Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been galvanised. "What!" he roared. "Yes, to-day." She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of paper in the air. "May I see it?" "Certainly." He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend postmark and with the date of that very day, or rather of the day before, for it was considerably after midnight. "Coarse writing," murmured Holmes. "Surely this is not your husband's writing, madam." "No, but the enclosure is." "I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go and inquire as to the address." "How can you tell that?" "The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried itself. The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that blotting-paper has been used. If it had been written straight off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. This man has written the name, and there has then been a pause before he wrote the address, which can only mean that he was not familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha! there has been an enclosure here!" "Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring." "And you are sure that this is your husband's hand?" "One of his hands." "One?" "His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual writing, and yet I know it well." "'Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a huge error which it may take some little time to rectify. Wait in patience.--NEVILLE.' Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book, octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a person who had been chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that it is your husband's hand, madam?" "None. Neville wrote those words." "And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the danger is over." "But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes." "Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. The ring, after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from him." "No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!" "Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only posted to-day." "That is possible." "If so, much may have happened between." "Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him last he cut himself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to such a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?" "I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. And in this letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to corroborate your view. But if your husband is alive and able to write letters, why should he remain away from you?" "I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable." "And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?" "No." "And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?" "Very much so." "Was the window open?" "Yes." "Then he might have called to you?" "He might." "He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?" "Yes." "A call for help, you thought?" "Yes. He waved his hands." "But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?" "It is possible." "And you thought he was pulled back?" "He disappeared so suddenly." "He might have leaped back. You did not see anyone else in the room?" "No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and the Lascar was at the foot of the stairs." "Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his ordinary clothes on?" "But without his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare throat." "Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?" "Never." "Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?" "Never." "Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Those are the principal points about which I wished to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little supper and then retire, for we may have a very busy day to-morrow." A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our disposal, and I was quickly between the sheets, for I was weary after my night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who, when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for days, and even for a week, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that he was now preparing for an all-night sitting. He took off his coat and waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, and then wandered about the room collecting pillows from his bed and cushions from the sofa and armchairs. With these he constructed a sort of Eastern divan, upon which he perched himself cross-legged, with an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front of him. In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there, an old briar pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him, silent, motionless, with the light shining upon his strong-set aquiline features. So he sat as I dropped off to sleep, and so he sat when a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up, and I found the summer sun shining into the apartment. The pipe was still between his lips, the smoke still curled upward, and the room was full of a dense tobacco haze, but nothing remained of the heap of shag which I had seen upon the previous night. "Awake, Watson?" he asked. "Yes." "Game for a morning drive?" "Certainly." "Then dress. No one is stirring yet, but I know where the stable-boy sleeps, and we shall soon have the trap out." He chuckled to himself as he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he seemed a different man to the sombre thinker of the previous night. As I dressed I glanced at my watch. It was no wonder that no one was stirring. It was twenty-five minutes past four. I had hardly finished when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was putting in the horse. "I want to test a little theory of mine," said he, pulling on his boots. "I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to be kicked from here to Charing Cross. But I think I have the key of the affair now." "And where is it?" I asked, smiling. "In the bathroom," he answered. "Oh, yes, I am not joking," he continued, seeing my look of incredulity. "I have just been there, and I have taken it out, and I have got it in this Gladstone bag. Come on, my boy, and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock." We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and trap, with the half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head. We both sprang in, and away we dashed down the London Road. A few country carts were stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as some city in a dream. "It has been in some points a singular case," said Holmes, flicking the horse on into a gallop. "I confess that I have been as blind as a mole, but it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at all." In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily from their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side. Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river, and dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the right and found ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well known to the force, and the two constables at the door saluted him. One of them held the horse's head while the other led us in. "Who is on duty?" asked Holmes. "Inspector Bradstreet, sir." "Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?" A tall, stout official had come down the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. "I wish to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet." "Certainly, Mr. Holmes. Step into my room here." It was a small, office-like room, with a huge ledger upon the table, and a telephone projecting from the wall. The inspector sat down at his desk. "What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?" "I called about that beggarman, Boone--the one who was charged with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee." "Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries." "So I heard. You have him here?" "In the cells." "Is he quiet?" "Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel." "Dirty?" "Yes, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his face is as black as a tinker's. Well, when once his case has been settled, he will have a regular prison bath; and I think, if you saw him, you would agree with me that he needed it." "I should like to see him very much." "Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave your bag." "No, I think that I'll take it." "Very good. Come this way, if you please." He led us down a passage, opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side. "The third on the right is his," said the inspector. "Here it is!" He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced through. "He is asleep," said he. "You can see him very well." We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over his eyes and forehead. "He's a beauty, isn't he?" said the inspector. "He certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes. "I had an idea that he might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me." He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my astonishment, a very large bath-sponge. "He! he! You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector. "Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable figure." "Well, I don't know why not," said the inspector. "He doesn't look a credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?" He slipped his key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The sleeper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep slumber. Holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the prisoner's face. "Let me introduce you," he shouted, "to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee, in the county of Kent." Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man's face peeled off under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the coarse brown tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had seamed it across, and the twisted lip which had given the repulsive sneer to the face! A twitch brought away the tangled red hair, and there, sitting up in his bed, was a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a scream and threw himself down with his face to the pillow. "Great heavens!" cried the inspector, "it is, indeed, the missing man. I know him from the photograph." The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons himself to his destiny. "Be it so," said he. "And pray what am I charged with?" "With making away with Mr. Neville St.-- Oh, come, you can't be charged with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of it," said the inspector with a grin. "Well, I have been twenty-seven years in the force, but this really takes the cake." "If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime has been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally detained." "No crime, but a very great error has been committed," said Holmes. "You would have done better to have trusted your wife." "It was not the wife; it was the children," groaned the prisoner. "God help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My God! What an exposure! What can I do?" Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him kindly on the shoulder. "If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up," said he, "of course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible case against you, I do not know that there is any reason that the details should find their way into the papers. Inspector Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. The case would then never go into court at all." "God bless you!" cried the prisoner passionately. "I would have endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left my miserable secret as a family blot to my children. "You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent education. I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London. One day my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the metropolis, and I volunteered to supply them. There was the point from which all my adventures started. It was only by trying begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which to base my articles. When an actor I had, of course, learned all the secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for my skill. I took advantage now of my attainments. I painted my face, and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a small slip of flesh-coloured plaster. Then with a red head of hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the business part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned home in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no less than 26s. 4d. "I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, some time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ served upon me for 25 pounds. I was at my wit's end where to get the money, but a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight's grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers, and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise. In ten days I had the money and had paid the debt. "Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous work at 2 pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on the ground, and sitting still. It was a long fight between my pride and the money, but the dollars won at last, and I threw up reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of a low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where I could every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow, a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that my secret was safe in his possession. "Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of money. I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London could earn 700 pounds a year--which is less than my average takings--but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making up, and also in a facility of repartee, which improved by practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City. All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon me, and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take 2 pounds. "As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the country, and eventually married, without anyone having a suspicion as to my real occupation. My dear wife knew that I had business in the City. She little knew what. "Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, to my horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the street, with her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to prevent anyone from coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I knew that she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife's eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that the clothes might betray me. I threw open the window, reopening by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of constables up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to my relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St. Clair, I was arrested as his murderer. "I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me, together with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to fear." "That note only reached her yesterday," said Holmes. "Good God! What a week she must have spent!" "The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet, "and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to post a letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor customer of his, who forgot all about it for some days." "That was it," said Holmes, nodding approvingly; "I have no doubt of it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?" "Many times; but what was a fine to me?" "It must stop here, however," said Bradstreet. "If the police are to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone." "I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take." "In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. I am sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your results." "I reached this one," said my friend, "by sitting upon five pillows and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast." VII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the purpose of examination. "You are engaged," said I; "perhaps I interrupt you." "Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one"--he jerked his thumb in the direction of the old hat--"but there are points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of instruction." I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice crystals. "I suppose," I remarked, "that, homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it--that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime." "No, no. No crime," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such." "So much so," I remarked, "that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime." "Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?" "Yes." "It is to him that this trophy belongs." "It is his hat." "No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's fire. The facts are these: about four o'clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose." "Which surely he restored to their owner?" "My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that 'For Mrs. Henry Baker' was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird's left leg, and it is also true that the initials 'H. B.' are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them." "What, then, did Peterson do?" "He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner." "Did he not advertise?" "No." "Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?" "Only as much as we can deduce." "From his hat?" "Precisely." "But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered felt?" "Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?" I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker's name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials "H. B." were scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discoloured patches by smearing them with ink. "I can see nothing," said I, handing it back to my friend. "On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences." "Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?" He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him. "It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been," he remarked, "and yet there are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink, at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him." "My dear Holmes!" "He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect," he continued, disregarding my remonstrance. "He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house." "You are certainly joking, Holmes." "Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?" "I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was intellectual?" For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. "It is a question of cubic capacity," said he; "a man with so large a brain must have something in it." "The decline of his fortunes, then?" "This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world." "Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?" Sherlock Holmes laughed. "Here is the foresight," said he putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. "They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect." "Your reasoning is certainly plausible." "The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in the best of training." "But his wife--you said that she had ceased to love him." "This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection." "But he might be a bachelor." "Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife. Remember the card upon the bird's leg." "You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?" "One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow--walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?" "Well, it is very ingenious," said I, laughing; "but since, as you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy." Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment. "The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!" he gasped. "Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off through the kitchen window?" Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face. "See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!" He held out his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand. Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. "By Jove, Peterson!" said he, "this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you have got?" "A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were putty." "It's more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone." "Not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle!" I ejaculated. "Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjectured, but the reward offered of 1000 pounds is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market price." "A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!" The commissionaire plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us. "That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but recover the gem." "It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan," I remarked. "Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady's jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account of the matter here, I believe." He rummaged amid his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out, doubled it over, and read the following paragraph: "Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst., abstracted from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing-table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder's cry of dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she found matters as described by the last witness. Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who struggled frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court." "Hum! So much for the police-court," said Holmes thoughtfully, tossing aside the paper. "The question for us now to solve is the sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall have recourse to other methods." "What will you say?" "Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: 'Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.' That is clear and concise." "Very. But will he see it?" "Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor man, the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his mischance in breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that he thought of nothing but flight, but since then he must have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then, again, the introduction of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his attention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the evening papers." "In which, sir?" "Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James's, Evening News, Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you." "Very well, sir. And this stone?" "Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring." When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. "It's a bonny thing," said he. "Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and the prison? I'll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it." "Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?" "I cannot tell." "Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?" "It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer to our advertisement." "And you can do nothing until then?" "Nothing." "In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like to see the solution of so tangled a business." "Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop." I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes' room. "Mr. Henry Baker, I believe," said he, rising from his armchair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily assume. "Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?" "Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat." He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes' surmise as to his habits. His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned up, and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune. "We have retained these things for some days," said Holmes, "because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise." Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. "Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were," he remarked. "I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless attempt at recovering them." "Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat it." "To eat it!" Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement. "Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally well?" "Oh, certainly, certainly," answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief. "Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish--" The man burst into a hearty laugh. "They might be useful to me as relics of my adventure," said he, "but beyond that I can hardly see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are going to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard." Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "There is your hat, then, and there your bird," said he. "By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown goose." "Certainly, sir," said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gained property under his arm. "There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum--we are to be found in the Museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity." With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and strode off upon his way. "So much for Mr. Henry Baker," said Holmes when he had closed the door behind him. "It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?" "Not particularly." "Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue while it is still hot." "By all means." It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors' quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord. "Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese," said he. "My geese!" The man seemed surprised. "Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who was a member of your goose club." "Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them's not our geese." "Indeed! Whose, then?" "Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden." "Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?" "Breckinridge is his name." "Ah! I don't know him. Well, here's your good health landlord, and prosperity to your house. Good-night." "Now for Mr. Breckinridge," he continued, buttoning up his coat as we came out into the frosty air. "Remember, Watson that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years' penal servitude unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!" We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a horsey-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put up the shutters. "Good-evening. It's a cold night," said Holmes. The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion. "Sold out of geese, I see," continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble. "Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning." "That's no good." "Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare." "Ah, but I was recommended to you." "Who by?" "The landlord of the Alpha." "Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen." "Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?" To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the salesman. "Now, then, mister," said he, with his head cocked and his arms akimbo, "what are you driving at? Let's have it straight, now." "It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha." "Well then, I shan't tell you. So now!" "Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don't know why you should be so warm over such a trifle." "Warm! You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the business; but it's 'Where are the geese?' and 'Who did you sell the geese to?' and 'What will you take for the geese?' One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over them." "Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making inquiries," said Holmes carelessly. "If you won't tell us the bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country bred." "Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred," snapped the salesman. "It's nothing of the kind." "I say it is." "I don't believe it." "D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to the Alpha were town bred." "You'll never persuade me to believe that." "Will you bet, then?" "It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate." The salesman chuckled grimly. "Bring me the books, Bill," said he. The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp. "Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thought that I was out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that there is still one left in my shop. You see this little book?" "Well?" "That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. D'you see? Well, then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me." "Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road--249," read Holmes. "Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger." Holmes turned to the page indicated. "Here you are, 'Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.'" "Now, then, what's the last entry?" "'December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.'" "Quite so. There you are. And underneath?" "'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.'" "What have you to say now?" Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which was peculiar to him. "When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the 'Pink 'un' protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet," said he. "I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front of him, that man would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should--" His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. "I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "I wish you were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese off you?" "No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little man. "Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it." "She told me to ask you." "Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I've had enough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. "Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes. "Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow." Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of colour had been driven from his face. "Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quavering voice. "You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I think that I could be of assistance to you." "You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?" "My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don't know." "But you can know nothing of this?" "Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member." "Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. "I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter." Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this wind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me, before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting." The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," he answered with a sidelong glance. "No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always awkward doing business with an alias." A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Well then," said he, "my real name is James Ryder." "Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would wish to know." The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous tension within him. "Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. "The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what became of those geese?" "Yes, sir." "Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in which you were interested--white, with a black bar across the tail." Ryder quivered with emotion. "Oh, sir," he cried, "can you tell me where it went to?" "It came here." "Here?" "Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don't wonder that you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead--the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here in my museum." Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. "The game's up, Ryder," said Holmes quietly. "Hold up, man, or you'll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!" For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened eyes at his accuser. "I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly need, so there is little which you need tell me. Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Countess of Morcar's?" "It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it," said he in a crackling voice. "I see--her ladyship's waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has been for better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous in the means you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that this man Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such matter before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him. What did you do, then? You made some small job in my lady's room--you and your confederate Cusack--and you managed that he should be the man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate man arrested. You then--" Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my companion's knees. "For God's sake, have mercy!" he shrieked. "Think of my father! Of my mother! It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before! I never will again. I swear it. I'll swear it on a Bible. Oh, don't bring it into court! For Christ's sake, don't!" "Get back into your chair!" said Holmes sternly. "It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing." "I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the charge against him will break down." "Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account of the next act. How came the stone into the goose, and how came the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of safety." Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. "I will tell you it just as it happened, sir," said he. "When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sister's house. She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; and, for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be best to do. "I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money. But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were waddling about round my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived. "My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she was always as good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds--a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and fluttered off among the others. "'Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?' says she. "'Well,' said I, 'you said you'd give me one for Christmas, and I was feeling which was the fattest.' "'Oh,' says she, 'we've set yours aside for you--Jem's bird, we call it. It's the big white one over yonder. There's twenty-six of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen for the market.' "'Thank you, Maggie,' says I; 'but if it is all the same to you, I'd rather have that one I was handling just now.' "'The other is a good three pound heavier,' said she, 'and we fattened it expressly for you.' "'Never mind. I'll have the other, and I'll take it now,' said I. "'Oh, just as you like,' said she, a little huffed. 'Which is it you want, then?' "'That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the flock.' "'Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.' "Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird, rushed back to my sister's, and hurried into the back yard. There was not a bird to be seen there. "'Where are they all, Maggie?' I cried. "'Gone to the dealer's, Jem.' "'Which dealer's?' "'Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.' "'But was there another with a barred tail?' I asked, 'the same as the one I chose?' "'Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never tell them apart.' "Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now--and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for which I sold my character. God help me! God help me!" He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands. There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes' finger-tips upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door. "Get out!" said he. "What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!" "No more words. Get out!" And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street. "After all, Watson," said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe, "I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to gaol now, and you make him a gaol-bird for life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature." VIII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth. It was early in April in the year '83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits. "Very sorry to knock you up, Watson," said he, "but it's the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you." "What is it, then--a fire?" "No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance." "My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything." I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as we entered. "Good-morning, madam," said Holmes cheerily. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe that you are shivering." "It is not cold which makes me shiver," said the woman in a low voice, changing her seat as requested. "What, then?" "It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror." She raised her veil as she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick, all-comprehensive glances. "You must not fear," said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm. "We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see." "You know me, then?" "No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station." The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my companion. "There is no mystery, my dear madam," said he, smiling. "The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand side of the driver." "Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct," said she. "I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to--none, save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married, with the control of my own income, and then at least you shall not find me ungrateful." Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, which he consulted. "Farintosh," said he. "Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which suits you best. And now I beg that you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the matter." "Alas!" replied our visitor, "the very horror of my situation lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me." "I am all attention, madam." "My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey." Holmes nodded his head. "The name is familiar to me," said he. "The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, obtained an advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man. "When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my mother's re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money--not less than 1000 pounds a year--and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return to England my mother died--she was killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness. "But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path. Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the family, and in my stepfather's case it had, I believe, been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger. "Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure. He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and he would give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered land which represent the family estate, and would accept in return the hospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the villagers almost as much as their master. "You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, even as mine has." "Your sister is dead, then?" "She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I have described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own age and position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother's maiden sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this lady's house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of marines, to whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and offered no objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion." Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now and glanced across at his visitor. "Pray be precise as to details," said he. "It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said, very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott's, the second my sister's, and the third my own. There is no communication between them, but they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?" "Perfectly so." "The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o'clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back. "'Tell me, Helen,' said she, 'have you ever heard anyone whistle in the dead of the night?' "'Never,' said I. "'I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your sleep?' "'Certainly not. But why?' "'Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from--perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask you whether you had heard it.' "'No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.' "'Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did not hear it also.' "'Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.' "'Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.' She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the lock." "Indeed," said Holmes. "Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night?" "Always." "And why?" "I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked." "Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement." "I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew that it was my sister's voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister's door was unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, 'Oh, my God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!' There was something else which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger into the air in the direction of the doctor's room, but a fresh convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his dressing-gown. When he reached my sister's side she was unconscious, and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and died without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister." "One moment," said Holmes, "are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound? Could you swear to it?" "That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived." "Was your sister dressed?" "No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box." "Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the coroner come to?" "He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott's conduct had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her." "How about poison?" "The doctors examined her for it, but without success." "What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?" "It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine." "Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?" "Yes, there are nearly always some there." "Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band--a speckled band?" "Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which she used." Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied. "These are very deep waters," said he; "pray go on with your narrative." "Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage--Percy Armitage--the second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice." "You have done wisely," said my friend. "But have you told me all?" "Yes, all." "Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather." "Why, what do you mean?" For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee. Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist. "You have been cruelly used," said Holmes. The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. "He is a hard man," she said, "and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength." There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire. "This is a very deep business," he said at last. "There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather?" "As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of the way." "Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?" "By no means." "Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?" "I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in town. But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to be there in time for your coming." "And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?" "No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon." She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided from the room. "And what do you think of it all, Watson?" asked Sherlock Holmes, leaning back in his chair. "It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business." "Dark enough and sinister enough." "Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious end." "What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very peculiar words of the dying woman?" "I cannot think." "When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines." "But what, then, did the gipsies do?" "I cannot imagine." "I see many objections to any such theory." "And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!" The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin, fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey. "Which of you is Holmes?" asked this apparition. "My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me," said my companion quietly. "I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran." "Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly. "Pray take a seat." "I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have traced her. What has she been saying to you?" "It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes. "What has she been saying to you?" screamed the old man furiously. "But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my companion imperturbably. "Ha! You put me off, do you?" said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking his hunting-crop. "I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler." My friend smiled. "Holmes, the busybody!" His smile broadened. "Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!" Holmes chuckled heartily. "Your conversation is most entertaining," said he. "When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught." "I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a dangerous man to fall foul of! See here." He stepped swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands. "See that you keep yourself out of my grip," he snarled, and hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room. "He seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing. "I am not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my grip was not much more feeble than his own." As he spoke he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again. "Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter." It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with notes and figures. "I have seen the will of the deceased wife," said he. "To determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which at the time of the wife's death was little short of 1100 pounds, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than 750 pounds. Each daughter can claim an income of 250 pounds, in case of marriage. It is evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to a very serious extent. My morning's work has not been wasted, since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need." At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows. "Look there!" said he. A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion. "Stoke Moran?" said he. "Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott," remarked the driver. "There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is where we are going." "There's the village," said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some distance to the left; "but if you want to get to the house, you'll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path over the fields. There it is, where the lady is walking." "And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner," observed Holmes, shading his eyes. "Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest." We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to Leatherhead. "I thought it as well," said Holmes as we climbed the stile, "that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on some definite business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word." Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke her joy. "I have been waiting so eagerly for you," she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. "All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before evening." "We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance," said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened. "Good heavens!" she cried, "he has followed me, then." "So it appears." "He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What will he say when he returns?" "He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt's at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine." The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the outsides of the windows. "This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one to your sister's, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott's chamber?" "Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one." "Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall." "There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room." "Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, of course?" "Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through." "As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?" Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. "Hum!" said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity, "my theory certainly presents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter." A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment. "Where does that bell communicate with?" he asked at last pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually lying upon the pillow. "It goes to the housekeeper's room." "It looks newer than the other things?" "Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago." "Your sister asked for it, I suppose?" "No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we wanted for ourselves." "Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor." He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug. "Why, it's a dummy," said he. "Won't it ring?" "No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little opening for the ventilator is." "How very absurd! I never noticed that before." "Very strange!" muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. "There are one or two very singular points about this room. For example, what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!" "That is also quite modern," said the lady. "Done about the same time as the bell-rope?" remarked Holmes. "Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time." "They seem to have been of a most interesting character--dummy bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the inner apartment." Dr. Grimesby Roylott's chamber was larger than that of his step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest interest. "What's in here?" he asked, tapping the safe. "My stepfather's business papers." "Oh! you have seen inside, then?" "Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers." "There isn't a cat in it, for example?" "No. What a strange idea!" "Well, look at this!" He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of it. "No; we don't keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon." "Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine." He squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with the greatest attention. "Thank you. That is quite settled," said he, rising and putting his lens in his pocket. "Hullo! Here is something interesting!" The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord. "What do you make of that, Watson?" "It's a common enough lash. But I don't know why it should be tied." "That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it's a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn." I had never seen my friend's face so grim or his brow so dark as it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from his reverie. "It is very essential, Miss Stoner," said he, "that you should absolutely follow my advice in every respect." "I shall most certainly do so." "The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend upon your compliance." "I assure you that I am in your hands." "In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room." Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment. "Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the village inn over there?" "Yes, that is the Crown." "Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?" "Certainly." "You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one night." "Oh, yes, easily." "The rest you will leave in our hands." "But what will you do?" "We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of this noise which has disturbed you." "I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind," said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion's sleeve. "Perhaps I have." "Then, for pity's sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister's death." "I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak." "You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if she died from some sudden fright." "No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you." Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the doctor's voice and saw the fury with which he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms. "Do you know, Watson," said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering darkness, "I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. There is a distinct element of danger." "Can I be of assistance?" "Your presence might be invaluable." "Then I shall certainly come." "It is very kind of you." "You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than was visible to me." "No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that you saw all that I did." "I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine." "You saw the ventilator, too?" "Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could hardly pass through." "I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke Moran." "My dear Holmes!" "Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her sister could smell Dr. Roylott's cigar. Now, of course that suggested at once that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the coroner's inquiry. I deduced a ventilator." "But what harm can there be in that?" "Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does not that strike you?" "I cannot as yet see any connection." "Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?" "No." "It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before?" "I cannot say that I have." "The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same relative position to the ventilator and to the rope--or so we may call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull." "Holmes," I cried, "I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime." "Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for goodness' sake let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more cheerful." About nine o'clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single bright light shone out right in front of us. "That is our signal," said Holmes, springing to his feet; "it comes from the middle window." As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it was possible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on our sombre errand. There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness. "My God!" I whispered; "did you see it?" Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put his lips to my ear. "It is a nice household," he murmured. "That is the baboon." I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes' example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom. My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to distinguish the words: "The least sound would be fatal to our plans." I nodded to show that I had heard. "We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator." I nodded again. "Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair." I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table. Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness. How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness. From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall. Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though the smell grew stronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became audible--a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with his cane at the bell-pull. "You see it, Watson?" he yelled. "You see it?" But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend lashed so savagely. I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing. He had ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled in the one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose. "What can it mean?" I gasped. "It means that it is all over," Holmes answered. "And perhaps, after all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. Roylott's room." With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within. Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cocked pistol in my hand. It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad in a long grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we had noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion. "The band! the speckled band!" whispered Holmes. I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent. "It is a swamp adder!" cried Holmes; "the deadliest snake in India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened." As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man's lap, and throwing the noose round the reptile's neck he drew it from its horrid perch and, carrying it at arm's length, threw it into the iron safe, which he closed upon it. Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back next day. "I had," said he, "come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word 'band,' which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not come either from the window or the door. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but sooner or later she must fall a victim. "I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he should reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to finally dispel any doubts which may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the light and attacked it." "With the result of driving it through the ventilator." "And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott's death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience." IX. THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENGINEER'S THUMB Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for solution during the years of our intimacy, there were only two which I was the means of introducing to his notice--that of Mr. Hatherley's thumb, and that of Colonel Warburton's madness. Of these the latter may have afforded a finer field for an acute and original observer, but the other was so strange in its inception and so dramatic in its details that it may be the more worthy of being placed upon record, even if it gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods of reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable results. The story has, I believe, been told more than once in the newspapers, but, like all such narratives, its effect is much less striking when set forth en bloc in a single half-column of print than when the facts slowly evolve before your own eyes, and the mystery clears gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads on to the complete truth. At the time the circumstances made a deep impression upon me, and the lapse of two years has hardly served to weaken the effect. It was in the summer of '89, not long after my marriage, that the events occurred which I am now about to summarise. I had returned to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker Street rooms, although I continually visited him and occasionally even persuaded him to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come and visit us. My practice had steadily increased, and as I happened to live at no very great distance from Paddington Station, I got a few patients from among the officials. One of these, whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease, was never weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring to send me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence. One morning, at a little before seven o'clock, I was awakened by the maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come from Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room. I dressed hurriedly, for I knew by experience that railway cases were seldom trivial, and hastened downstairs. As I descended, my old ally, the guard, came out of the room and closed the door tightly behind him. "I've got him here," he whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder; "he's all right." "What is it, then?" I asked, for his manner suggested that it was some strange creature which he had caged up in my room. "It's a new patient," he whispered. "I thought I'd bring him round myself; then he couldn't slip away. There he is, all safe and sound. I must go now, Doctor; I have my dooties, just the same as you." And off he went, this trusty tout, without even giving me time to thank him. I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleman seated by the table. He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a soft cloth cap which he had laid down upon my books. Round one of his hands he had a handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all over with bloodstains. He was young, not more than five-and-twenty, I should say, with a strong, masculine face; but he was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression of a man who was suffering from some strong agitation, which it took all his strength of mind to control. "I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor," said he, "but I have had a very serious accident during the night. I came in by train this morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I might find a doctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here. I gave the maid a card, but I see that she has left it upon the side-table." I took it up and glanced at it. "Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic engineer, 16A, Victoria Street (3rd floor)." That was the name, style, and abode of my morning visitor. "I regret that I have kept you waiting," said I, sitting down in my library-chair. "You are fresh from a night journey, I understand, which is in itself a monotonous occupation." "Oh, my night could not be called monotonous," said he, and laughed. He laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning back in his chair and shaking his sides. All my medical instincts rose up against that laugh. "Stop it!" I cried; "pull yourself together!" and I poured out some water from a caraffe. It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis is over and gone. Presently he came to himself once more, very weary and pale-looking. "I have been making a fool of myself," he gasped. "Not at all. Drink this." I dashed some brandy into the water, and the colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks. "That's better!" said he. "And now, Doctor, perhaps you would kindly attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb used to be." He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the thumb should have been. It had been hacked or torn right out from the roots. "Good heavens!" I cried, "this is a terrible injury. It must have bled considerably." "Yes, it did. I fainted when it was done, and I think that I must have been senseless for a long time. When I came to I found that it was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly round the wrist and braced it up with a twig." "Excellent! You should have been a surgeon." "It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own province." "This has been done," said I, examining the wound, "by a very heavy and sharp instrument." "A thing like a cleaver," said he. "An accident, I presume?" "By no means." "What! a murderous attack?" "Very murderous indeed." "You horrify me." I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered it over with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages. He lay back without wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time. "How is that?" I asked when I had finished. "Capital! Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man. I was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through." "Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It is evidently trying to your nerves." "Oh, no, not now. I shall have to tell my tale to the police; but, between ourselves, if it were not for the convincing evidence of this wound of mine, I should be surprised if they believed my statement, for it is a very extraordinary one, and I have not much in the way of proof with which to back it up; and, even if they believe me, the clues which I can give them are so vague that it is a question whether justice will be done." "Ha!" cried I, "if it is anything in the nature of a problem which you desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you to come to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you go to the official police." "Oh, I have heard of that fellow," answered my visitor, "and I should be very glad if he would take the matter up, though of course I must use the official police as well. Would you give me an introduction to him?" "I'll do better. I'll take you round to him myself." "I should be immensely obliged to you." "We'll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to have a little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal to it?" "Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story." "Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an instant." I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my wife, and in five minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my new acquaintance to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his sitting-room in his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The Times and smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed of all the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day before, all carefully dried and collected on the corner of the mantelpiece. He received us in his quietly genial fashion, ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and joined us in a hearty meal. When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance upon the sofa, placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid a glass of brandy and water within his reach. "It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, Mr. Hatherley," said he. "Pray, lie down there and make yourself absolutely at home. Tell us what you can, but stop when you are tired and keep up your strength with a little stimulant." "Thank you," said my patient, "but I have felt another man since the doctor bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has completed the cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable time as possible, so I shall start at once upon my peculiar experiences." Holmes sat in his big armchair with the weary, heavy-lidded expression which veiled his keen and eager nature, while I sat opposite to him, and we listened in silence to the strange story which our visitor detailed to us. "You must know," said he, "that I am an orphan and a bachelor, residing alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am a hydraulic engineer, and I have had considerable experience of my work during the seven years that I was apprenticed to Venner & Matheson, the well-known firm, of Greenwich. Two years ago, having served my time, and having also come into a fair sum of money through my poor father's death, I determined to start in business for myself and took professional chambers in Victoria Street. "I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in business a dreary experience. To me it has been exceptionally so. During two years I have had three consultations and one small job, and that is absolutely all that my profession has brought me. My gross takings amount to 27 pounds 10s. Every day, from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I waited in my little den, until at last my heart began to sink, and I came to believe that I should never have any practice at all. "Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who wished to see me upon business. He brought up a card, too, with the name of 'Colonel Lysander Stark' engraved upon it. Close at his heels came the colonel himself, a man rather over the middle size, but of an exceeding thinness. I do not think that I have ever seen so thin a man. His whole face sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over his outstanding bones. Yet this emaciation seemed to be his natural habit, and due to no disease, for his eye was bright, his step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was plainly but neatly dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be nearer forty than thirty. "'Mr. Hatherley?' said he, with something of a German accent. 'You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being a man who is not only proficient in his profession but is also discreet and capable of preserving a secret.' "I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an address. 'May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?' "'Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just at this moment. I have it from the same source that you are both an orphan and a bachelor and are residing alone in London.' "'That is quite correct,' I answered; 'but you will excuse me if I say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional qualifications. I understand that it was on a professional matter that you wished to speak to me?' "'Undoubtedly so. But you will find that all I say is really to the point. I have a professional commission for you, but absolute secrecy is quite essential--absolute secrecy, you understand, and of course we may expect that more from a man who is alone than from one who lives in the bosom of his family.' "'If I promise to keep a secret,' said I, 'you may absolutely depend upon my doing so.' "He looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I had never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye. "'Do you promise, then?' said he at last. "'Yes, I promise.' "'Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after? No reference to the matter at all, either in word or writing?' "'I have already given you my word.' "'Very good.' He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning across the room he flung open the door. The passage outside was empty. "'That's all right,' said he, coming back. 'I know that clerks are sometimes curious as to their master's affairs. Now we can talk in safety.' He drew up his chair very close to mine and began to stare at me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look. "A feeling of repulsion, and of something akin to fear had begun to rise within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man. Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from showing my impatience. "'I beg that you will state your business, sir,' said I; 'my time is of value.' Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the words came to my lips. "'How would fifty guineas for a night's work suit you?' he asked. "'Most admirably.' "'I say a night's work, but an hour's would be nearer the mark. I simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which has got out of gear. If you show us what is wrong we shall soon set it right ourselves. What do you think of such a commission as that?' "'The work appears to be light and the pay munificent.' "'Precisely so. We shall want you to come to-night by the last train.' "'Where to?' "'To Eyford, in Berkshire. It is a little place near the borders of Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of Reading. There is a train from Paddington which would bring you there at about 11:15.' "'Very good.' "'I shall come down in a carriage to meet you.' "'There is a drive, then?' "'Yes, our little place is quite out in the country. It is a good seven miles from Eyford Station.' "'Then we can hardly get there before midnight. I suppose there would be no chance of a train back. I should be compelled to stop the night.' "'Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.' "'That is very awkward. Could I not come at some more convenient hour?' "'We have judged it best that you should come late. It is to recompense you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you, a young and unknown man, a fee which would buy an opinion from the very heads of your profession. Still, of course, if you would like to draw out of the business, there is plenty of time to do so.' "I thought of the fifty guineas, and of how very useful they would be to me. 'Not at all,' said I, 'I shall be very happy to accommodate myself to your wishes. I should like, however, to understand a little more clearly what it is that you wish me to do.' "'Quite so. It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we have exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity. I have no wish to commit you to anything without your having it all laid before you. I suppose that we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers?' "'Entirely.' "'Then the matter stands thus. You are probably aware that fuller's-earth is a valuable product, and that it is only found in one or two places in England?' "'I have heard so.' "'Some little time ago I bought a small place--a very small place--within ten miles of Reading. I was fortunate enough to discover that there was a deposit of fuller's-earth in one of my fields. On examining it, however, I found that this deposit was a comparatively small one, and that it formed a link between two very much larger ones upon the right and left--both of them, however, in the grounds of my neighbours. These good people were absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which was quite as valuable as a gold-mine. Naturally, it was to my interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value, but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this. I took a few of my friends into the secret, however, and they suggested that we should quietly and secretly work our own little deposit and that in this way we should earn the money which would enable us to buy the neighbouring fields. This we have now been doing for some time, and in order to help us in our operations we erected a hydraulic press. This press, as I have already explained, has got out of order, and we wish your advice upon the subject. We guard our secret very jealously, however, and if it once became known that we had hydraulic engineers coming to our little house, it would soon rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts came out, it would be good-bye to any chance of getting these fields and carrying out our plans. That is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a human being that you are going to Eyford to-night. I hope that I make it all plain?' "'I quite follow you,' said I. 'The only point which I could not quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press in excavating fuller's-earth, which, as I understand, is dug out like gravel from a pit.' "'Ah!' said he carelessly, 'we have our own process. We compress the earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing what they are. But that is a mere detail. I have taken you fully into my confidence now, Mr. Hatherley, and I have shown you how I trust you.' He rose as he spoke. 'I shall expect you, then, at Eyford at 11:15.' "'I shall certainly be there.' "'And not a word to a soul.' He looked at me with a last long, questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand in a cold, dank grasp, he hurried from the room. "Well, when I came to think it all over in cool blood I was very much astonished, as you may both think, at this sudden commission which had been intrusted to me. On the one hand, of course, I was glad, for the fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked had I set a price upon my own services, and it was possible that this order might lead to other ones. On the other hand, the face and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant impression upon me, and I could not think that his explanation of the fuller's-earth was sufficient to explain the necessity for my coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell anyone of my errand. However, I threw all fears to the winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and started off, having obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue. "At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station. However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I reached the little dim-lit station after eleven o'clock. I was the only passenger who got out there, and there was no one upon the platform save a single sleepy porter with a lantern. As I passed out through the wicket gate, however, I found my acquaintance of the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side. Without a word he grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage, the door of which was standing open. He drew up the windows on either side, tapped on the wood-work, and away we went as fast as the horse could go." "One horse?" interjected Holmes. "Yes, only one." "Did you observe the colour?" "Yes, I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping into the carriage. It was a chestnut." "Tired-looking or fresh?" "Oh, fresh and glossy." "Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Pray continue your most interesting statement." "Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour. Colonel Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles, but I should think, from the rate that we seemed to go, and from the time that we took, that it must have been nearer twelve. He sat at my side in silence all the time, and I was aware, more than once when I glanced in his direction, that he was looking at me with great intensity. The country roads seem to be not very good in that part of the world, for we lurched and jolted terribly. I tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we were, but they were made of frosted glass, and I could make out nothing save the occasional bright blur of a passing light. Now and then I hazarded some remark to break the monotony of the journey, but the colonel answered only in monosyllables, and the conversation soon flagged. At last, however, the bumping of the road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness of a gravel-drive, and the carriage came to a stand. Colonel Lysander Stark sprang out, and, as I followed after him, pulled me swiftly into a porch which gaped in front of us. We stepped, as it were, right out of the carriage and into the hall, so that I failed to catch the most fleeting glance of the front of the house. The instant that I had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us, and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage drove away. "It was pitch dark inside the house, and the colonel fumbled about looking for matches and muttering under his breath. Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage, and a long, golden bar of light shot out in our direction. It grew broader, and a woman appeared with a lamp in her hand, which she held above her head, pushing her face forward and peering at us. I could see that she was pretty, and from the gloss with which the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it was a rich material. She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as though asking a question, and when my companion answered in a gruff monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly fell from her hand. Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered something in her ear, and then, pushing her back into the room from whence she had come, he walked towards me again with the lamp in his hand. "'Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a few minutes,' said he, throwing open another door. It was a quiet, little, plainly furnished room, with a round table in the centre, on which several German books were scattered. Colonel Stark laid down the lamp on the top of a harmonium beside the door. 'I shall not keep you waiting an instant,' said he, and vanished into the darkness. "I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my ignorance of German I could see that two of them were treatises on science, the others being volumes of poetry. Then I walked across to the window, hoping that I might catch some glimpse of the country-side, but an oak shutter, heavily barred, was folded across it. It was a wonderfully silent house. There was an old clock ticking loudly somewhere in the passage, but otherwise everything was deadly still. A vague feeling of uneasiness began to steal over me. Who were these German people, and what were they doing living in this strange, out-of-the-way place? And where was the place? I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was all I knew, but whether north, south, east, or west I had no idea. For that matter, Reading, and possibly other large towns, were within that radius, so the place might not be so secluded, after all. Yet it was quite certain, from the absolute stillness, that we were in the country. I paced up and down the room, humming a tune under my breath to keep up my spirits and feeling that I was thoroughly earning my fifty-guinea fee. "Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the utter stillness, the door of my room swung slowly open. The woman was standing in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind her, the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and beautiful face. I could see at a glance that she was sick with fear, and the sight sent a chill to my own heart. She held up one shaking finger to warn me to be silent, and she shot a few whispered words of broken English at me, her eyes glancing back, like those of a frightened horse, into the gloom behind her. "'I would go,' said she, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to speak calmly; 'I would go. I should not stay here. There is no good for you to do.' "'But, madam,' said I, 'I have not yet done what I came for. I cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.' "'It is not worth your while to wait,' she went on. 'You can pass through the door; no one hinders.' And then, seeing that I smiled and shook my head, she suddenly threw aside her constraint and made a step forward, with her hands wrung together. 'For the love of Heaven!' she whispered, 'get away from here before it is too late!' "But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to engage in an affair when there is some obstacle in the way. I thought of my fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of the unpleasant night which seemed to be before me. Was it all to go for nothing? Why should I slink away without having carried out my commission, and without the payment which was my due? This woman might, for all I knew, be a monomaniac. With a stout bearing, therefore, though her manner had shaken me more than I cared to confess, I still shook my head and declared my intention of remaining where I was. She was about to renew her entreaties when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several footsteps was heard upon the stairs. She listened for an instant, threw up her hands with a despairing gesture, and vanished as suddenly and as noiselessly as she had come. "The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double chin, who was introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson. "'This is my secretary and manager,' said the colonel. 'By the way, I was under the impression that I left this door shut just now. I fear that you have felt the draught.' "'On the contrary,' said I, 'I opened the door myself because I felt the room to be a little close.' "He shot one of his suspicious looks at me. 'Perhaps we had better proceed to business, then,' said he. 'Mr. Ferguson and I will take you up to see the machine.' "'I had better put my hat on, I suppose.' "'Oh, no, it is in the house.' "'What, you dig fuller's-earth in the house?' "'No, no. This is only where we compress it. But never mind that. All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us know what is wrong with it.' "We went upstairs together, the colonel first with the lamp, the fat manager and I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house, with corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases, and little low doors, the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the generations who had crossed them. There were no carpets and no signs of any furniture above the ground floor, while the plaster was peeling off the walls, and the damp was breaking through in green, unhealthy blotches. I tried to put on as unconcerned an air as possible, but I had not forgotten the warnings of the lady, even though I disregarded them, and I kept a keen eye upon my two companions. Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent man, but I could see from the little that he said that he was at least a fellow-countryman. "Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door, which he unlocked. Within was a small, square room, in which the three of us could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained outside, and the colonel ushered me in. "'We are now,' said he, 'actually within the hydraulic press, and it would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were to turn it on. The ceiling of this small chamber is really the end of the descending piston, and it comes down with the force of many tons upon this metal floor. There are small lateral columns of water outside which receive the force, and which transmit and multiply it in the manner which is familiar to you. The machine goes readily enough, but there is some stiffness in the working of it, and it has lost a little of its force. Perhaps you will have the goodness to look it over and to show us how we can set it right.' "I took the lamp from him, and I examined the machine very thoroughly. It was indeed a gigantic one, and capable of exercising enormous pressure. When I passed outside, however, and pressed down the levers which controlled it, I knew at once by the whishing sound that there was a slight leakage, which allowed a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders. An examination showed that one of the india-rubber bands which was round the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite to fill the socket along which it worked. This was clearly the cause of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my companions, who followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical questions as to how they should proceed to set it right. When I had made it clear to them, I returned to the main chamber of the machine and took a good look at it to satisfy my own curiosity. It was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller's-earth was the merest fabrication, for it would be absurd to suppose that so powerful an engine could be designed for so inadequate a purpose. The walls were of wood, but the floor consisted of a large iron trough, and when I came to examine it I could see a crust of metallic deposit all over it. I had stooped and was scraping at this to see exactly what it was when I heard a muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the colonel looking down at me. "'What are you doing there?' he asked. "I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as that which he had told me. 'I was admiring your fuller's-earth,' said I; 'I think that I should be better able to advise you as to your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was for which it was used.' "The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of my speech. His face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in his grey eyes. "'Very well,' said he, 'you shall know all about the machine.' He took a step backward, slammed the little door, and turned the key in the lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it was quite secure, and did not give in the least to my kicks and shoves. 'Hullo!' I yelled. 'Hullo! Colonel! Let me out!' "And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my heart into my mouth. It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work. The lamp still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining the trough. By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me, slowly, jerkily, but, as none knew better than myself, with a force which must within a minute grind me to a shapeless pulp. I threw myself, screaming, against the door, and dragged with my nails at the lock. I implored the colonel to let me out, but the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head, and with my hand upraised I could feel its hard, rough surface. Then it flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend very much upon the position in which I met it. If I lay on my face the weight would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to think of that dreadful snap. Easier the other way, perhaps; and yet, had I the nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black shadow wavering down upon me? Already I was unable to stand erect, when my eye caught something which brought a gush of hope back to my heart. "I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the walls were of wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards, which broadened and broadened as a small panel was pushed backward. For an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door which led away from death. The next instant I threw myself through, and lay half-fainting upon the other side. The panel had closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp, and a few moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal, told me how narrow had been my escape. "I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and I found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, while a woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand, while she held a candle in her right. It was the same good friend whose warning I had so foolishly rejected. "'Come! come!' she cried breathlessly. 'They will be here in a moment. They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste the so-precious time, but come!' "This time, at least, I did not scorn her advice. I staggered to my feet and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding stair. The latter led to another broad passage, and just as we reached it we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices, one answering the other from the floor on which we were and from the one beneath. My guide stopped and looked about her like one who is at her wit's end. Then she threw open a door which led into a bedroom, through the window of which the moon was shining brightly. "'It is your only chance,' said she. 'It is high, but it may be that you can jump it.' "As she spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the passage, and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark rushing forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a butcher's cleaver in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, flung open the window, and looked out. How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight, and it could not be more than thirty feet down. I clambered out upon the sill, but I hesitated to jump until I should have heard what passed between my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me. If she were ill-used, then at any risks I was determined to go back to her assistance. The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at the door, pushing his way past her; but she threw her arms round him and tried to hold him back. "'Fritz! Fritz!' she cried in English, 'remember your promise after the last time. You said it should not be again. He will be silent! Oh, he will be silent!' "'You are mad, Elise!' he shouted, struggling to break away from her. 'You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me pass, I say!' He dashed her to one side, and, rushing to the window, cut at me with his heavy weapon. I had let myself go, and was hanging by the hands to the sill, when his blow fell. I was conscious of a dull pain, my grip loosened, and I fell into the garden below. "I was shaken but not hurt by the fall; so I picked myself up and rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I understood that I was far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly, however, as I ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me. I glanced down at my hand, which was throbbing painfully, and then, for the first time, saw that my thumb had been cut off and that the blood was pouring from my wound. I endeavoured to tie my handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden buzzing in my ears, and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the rose-bushes. "How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been a very long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was breaking when I came to myself. My clothes were all sodden with dew, and my coat-sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded thumb. The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of my night's adventure, and I sprang to my feet with the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers. But to my astonishment, when I came to look round me, neither house nor garden were to be seen. I had been lying in an angle of the hedge close by the highroad, and just a little lower down was a long building, which proved, upon my approaching it, to be the very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night. Were it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream. "Half dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The same porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I arrived. I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark. The name was strange to him. Had he observed a carriage the night before waiting for me? No, he had not. Was there a police-station anywhere near? There was one about three miles off. "It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the police. It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first to have my wound dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to bring me along here. I put the case into your hands and shall do exactly what you advise." We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to this extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he placed his cuttings. "Here is an advertisement which will interest you," said he. "It appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this: 'Lost, on the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah Hayling, aged twenty-six, a hydraulic engineer. Left his lodgings at ten o'clock at night, and has not been heard of since. Was dressed in,' etc., etc. Ha! That represents the last time that the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I fancy." "Good heavens!" cried my patient. "Then that explains what the girl said." "Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and desperate man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should stand in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well, every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for Eyford." Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train together, bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village. There were Sherlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector Bradstreet, of Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes man, and myself. Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the seat and was busy with his compasses drawing a circle with Eyford for its centre. "There you are," said he. "That circle is drawn at a radius of ten miles from the village. The place we want must be somewhere near that line. You said ten miles, I think, sir." "It was an hour's good drive." "And you think that they brought you back all that way when you were unconscious?" "They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having been lifted and conveyed somewhere." "What I cannot understand," said I, "is why they should have spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden. Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman's entreaties." "I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face in my life." "Oh, we shall soon clear up all that," said Bradstreet. "Well, I have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon it the folk that we are in search of are to be found." "I think I could lay my finger on it," said Holmes quietly. "Really, now!" cried the inspector, "you have formed your opinion! Come, now, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is south, for the country is more deserted there." "And I say east," said my patient. "I am for west," remarked the plain-clothes man. "There are several quiet little villages up there." "And I am for north," said I, "because there are no hills there, and our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up any." "Come," cried the inspector, laughing; "it's a very pretty diversity of opinion. We have boxed the compass among us. Who do you give your casting vote to?" "You are all wrong." "But we can't all be." "Oh, yes, you can. This is my point." He placed his finger in the centre of the circle. "This is where we shall find them." "But the twelve-mile drive?" gasped Hatherley. "Six out and six back. Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the horse was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could it be that if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?" "Indeed, it is a likely ruse enough," observed Bradstreet thoughtfully. "Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature of this gang." "None at all," said Holmes. "They are coiners on a large scale, and have used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the place of silver." "We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work," said the inspector. "They have been turning out half-crowns by the thousand. We even traced them as far as Reading, but could get no farther, for they had covered their traces in a way that showed that they were very old hands. But now, thanks to this lucky chance, I think that we have got them right enough." But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not destined to fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood and hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape. "A house on fire?" asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on its way. "Yes, sir!" said the station-master. "When did it break out?" "I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse, and the whole place is in a blaze." "Whose house is it?" "Dr. Becher's." "Tell me," broke in the engineer, "is Dr. Becher a German, very thin, with a long, sharp nose?" The station-master laughed heartily. "No, sir, Dr. Becher is an Englishman, and there isn't a man in the parish who has a better-lined waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with him, a patient, as I understand, who is a foreigner, and he looks as if a little good Berkshire beef would do him no harm." The station-master had not finished his speech before we were all hastening in the direction of the fire. The road topped a low hill, and there was a great widespread whitewashed building in front of us, spouting fire at every chink and window, while in the garden in front three fire-engines were vainly striving to keep the flames under. "That's it!" cried Hatherley, in intense excitement. "There is the gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes where I lay. That second window is the one that I jumped from." "Well, at least," said Holmes, "you have had your revenge upon them. There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which, when it was crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls, though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you to observe it at the time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for your friends of last night, though I very much fear that they are a good hundred miles off by now." And Holmes' fears came to be realised, for from that day to this no word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, the sinister German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning a peasant had met a cart containing several people and some very bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading, but there all traces of the fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes' ingenuity failed ever to discover the least clue as to their whereabouts. The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements which they had found within, and still more so by discovering a newly severed human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor. About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, and they subdued the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, and the whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin that, save some twisted cylinders and iron piping, not a trace remained of the machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so dearly. Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored in an out-house, but no coins were to be found, which may have explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have been already referred to. How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to the spot where he recovered his senses might have remained forever a mystery were it not for the soft mould, which told us a very plain tale. He had evidently been carried down by two persons, one of whom had remarkably small feet and the other unusually large ones. On the whole, it was most probable that the silent Englishman, being less bold or less murderous than his companion, had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man out of the way of danger. "Well," said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return once more to London, "it has been a pretty business for me! I have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and what have I gained?" "Experience," said Holmes, laughing. "Indirectly it may be of value, you know; you have only to put it into words to gain the reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your existence." X. THE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELOR The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have long ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reason to believe, however, that the full facts have never been revealed to the general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that no memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of this remarkable episode. It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for him. I had remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, and the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend's noble correspondent could be. "Here is a very fashionable epistle," I remarked as he entered. "Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a tide-waiter." "Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety," he answered, smiling, "and the humbler are usually the more interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie." He broke the seal and glanced over the contents. "Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all." "Not social, then?" "No, distinctly professional." "And from a noble client?" "One of the highest in England." "My dear fellow, I congratulate you." "I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his case. It is just possible, however, that that also may not be wanting in this new investigation. You have been reading the papers diligently of late, have you not?" "It looks like it," said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in the corner. "I have had nothing else to do." "It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. The latter is always instructive. But if you have followed recent events so closely you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his wedding?" "Oh, yes, with the deepest interest." "That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord St. Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter. This is what he says: "'MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:--Lord Backwater tells me that I may place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion. I have determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult you in reference to the very painful event which has occurred in connection with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is acting already in the matter, but he assures me that he sees no objection to your co-operation, and that he even thinks that it might be of some assistance. I will call at four o'clock in the afternoon, and, should you have any other engagement at that time, I hope that you will postpone it, as this matter is of paramount importance. Yours faithfully, ST. SIMON.' "It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen, and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink upon the outer side of his right little finger," remarked Holmes as he folded up the epistle. "He says four o'clock. It is three now. He will be here in an hour." "Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon the subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their order of time, while I take a glance as to who our client is." He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of reference beside the mantelpiece. "Here he is," said he, sitting down and flattening it out upon his knee. "'Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral.' Hum! 'Arms: Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.' He's forty-one years of age, which is mature for marriage. Was Under-Secretary for the colonies in a late administration. The Duke, his father, was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs. They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and Tudor on the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very instructive in all this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for something more solid." "I have very little difficulty in finding what I want," said I, "for the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as remarkable. I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the intrusion of other matters." "Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square furniture van. That is quite cleared up now--though, indeed, it was obvious from the first. Pray give me the results of your newspaper selections." "Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal column of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some weeks back: 'A marriage has been arranged,' it says, 'and will, if rumour is correct, very shortly take place, between Lord Robert St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty Doran, the only daughter of Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.' That is all." "Terse and to the point," remarked Holmes, stretching his long, thin legs towards the fire. "There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers of the same week. Ah, here it is: 'There will soon be a call for protection in the marriage market, for the present free-trade principle appears to tell heavily against our home product. One by one the management of the noble houses of Great Britain is passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic. An important addition has been made during the last week to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself for over twenty years proof against the little god's arrows, has now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at the Westbury House festivities, is an only child, and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to considerably over the six figures, with expectancies for the future. As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years, and as Lord St. Simon has no property of his own save the small estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the Californian heiress is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a British peeress.'" "Anything else?" asked Holmes, yawning. "Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the Morning Post to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it would be at St. George's, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran. Two days later--that is, on Wednesday last--there is a curt announcement that the wedding had taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord Backwater's place, near Petersfield. Those are all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of the bride." "Before the what?" asked Holmes with a start. "The vanishing of the lady." "When did she vanish, then?" "At the wedding breakfast." "Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite dramatic, in fact." "Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common." "They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during the honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt as this. Pray let me have the details." "I warn you that they are very incomplete." "Perhaps we may make them less so." "Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is headed, 'Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding': "'The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which have taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently floating about. In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush the matter up, so much public attention has now been drawn to it that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what is a common subject for conversation. "'The ceremony, which was performed at St. George's, Hanover Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present save the father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon (the younger brother and sister of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused by a woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavoured to force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the house before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some comment, her father followed her, but learned from her maid that she had only come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his mistress, believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with the police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange disappearance of the bride.'" "And is that all?" "Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is a suggestive one." "And it is--" "That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance, has actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole case is in your hands now--so far as it has been set forth in the public press." "And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell, Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, if only as a check to my own memory." "Lord Robert St. Simon," announced our page-boy, throwing open the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an undue impression of age, for he had a slight forward stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he swept off his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and thin upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-coloured gaiters. He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left to right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his golden eyeglasses. "Good-day, Lord St. Simon," said Holmes, rising and bowing. "Pray take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this matter over." "A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you have already managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of society." "No, I am descending." "I beg pardon." "My last client of the sort was a king." "Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?" "The King of Scandinavia." "What! Had he lost his wife?" "You can understand," said Holmes suavely, "that I extend to the affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to you in yours." "Of course! Very right! very right! I'm sure I beg pardon. As to my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may assist you in forming an opinion." "Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct--this article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride." Lord St. Simon glanced over it. "Yes, it is correct, as far as it goes." "But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most directly by questioning you." "Pray do so." "When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?" "In San Francisco, a year ago." "You were travelling in the States?" "Yes." "Did you become engaged then?" "No." "But you were on a friendly footing?" "I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was amused." "Her father is very rich?" "He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope." "And how did he make his money?" "In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold, invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds." "Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady's--your wife's character?" The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down into the fire. "You see, Mr. Holmes," said he, "my wife was twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather than from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a tomboy, with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any sort of traditions. She is impetuous--volcanic, I was about to say. She is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the name which I have the honour to bear"--he gave a little stately cough--"had not I thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that anything dishonourable would be repugnant to her." "Have you her photograph?" "I brought this with me." He opened a locket and showed us the full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon. "The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your acquaintance?" "Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now married her." "She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?" "A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family." "And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a fait accompli?" "I really have made no inquiries on the subject." "Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the wedding?" "Yes." "Was she in good spirits?" "Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our future lives." "Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the wedding?" "She was as bright as possible--at least until after the ceremony." "And did you observe any change in her then?" "Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible bearing upon the case." "Pray let us have it, for all that." "Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it fell over into the pew. There was a moment's delay, but the gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause." "Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of the general public were present, then?" "Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is open." "This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends?" "No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point." "Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do on re-entering her father's house?" "I saw her in conversation with her maid." "And who is her maid?" "Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California with her." "A confidential servant?" "A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they look upon these things in a different way." "How long did she speak to this Alice?" "Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of." "You did not overhear what they said?" "Lady St. Simon said something about 'jumping a claim.' She was accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she meant." "American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?" "She walked into the breakfast-room." "On your arm?" "No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that. Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She never came back." "But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to her room, covered her bride's dress with a long ulster, put on a bonnet, and went out." "Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran's house that morning." "Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, and your relations to her." Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. "We have been on a friendly footing for some years--I may say on a very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of complaint against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell the truth, the reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She came to Mr. Doran's door just after we returned, and she endeavoured to push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions towards my wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again. She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a row." "Did your wife hear all this?" "No, thank goodness, she did not." "And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?" "Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid some terrible trap for her." "Well, it is a possible supposition." "You think so, too?" "I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon this as likely?" "I do not think Flora would hurt a fly." "Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray what is your own theory as to what took place?" "Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous disturbance in my wife." "In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?" "Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back--I will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to without success--I can hardly explain it in any other fashion." "Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis," said Holmes, smiling. "And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?" "We could see the other side of the road and the Park." "Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer. I shall communicate with you." "Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem," said our client, rising. "I have solved it." "Eh? What was that?" "I say that I have solved it." "Where, then, is my wife?" "That is a detail which I shall speedily supply." Lord St. Simon shook his head. "I am afraid that it will take wiser heads than yours or mine," he remarked, and bowing in a stately, old-fashioned manner he departed. "It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by putting it on a level with his own," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "I think that I shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all this cross-questioning. I had formed my conclusions as to the case before our client came into the room." "My dear Holmes!" "I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I remarked before, which were quite as prompt. My whole examination served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a trout in the milk, to quote Thoreau's example." "But I have heard all that you have heard." "Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which serves me so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some years back, and something on very much the same lines at Munich the year after the Franco-Prussian War. It is one of these cases--but, hullo, here is Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade! You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and there are cigars in the box." The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a black canvas bag in his hand. With a short greeting he seated himself and lit the cigar which had been offered to him. "What's up, then?" asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. "You look dissatisfied." "And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage case. I can make neither head nor tail of the business." "Really! You surprise me." "Who ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to slip through my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day." "And very wet it seems to have made you," said Holmes laying his hand upon the arm of the pea-jacket. "Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine." "In heaven's name, what for?" "In search of the body of Lady St. Simon." Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. "Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?" he asked. "Why? What do you mean?" "Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in the one as in the other." Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. "I suppose you know all about it," he snarled. "Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up." "Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in the matter?" "I think it very unlikely." "Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found this in it?" He opened his bag as he spoke, and tumbled onto the floor a wedding-dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin shoes and a bride's wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked in water. "There," said he, putting a new wedding-ring upon the top of the pile. "There is a little nut for you to crack, Master Holmes." "Oh, indeed!" said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. "You dragged them from the Serpentine?" "No. They were found floating near the margin by a park-keeper. They have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me that if the clothes were there the body would not be far off." "By the same brilliant reasoning, every man's body is to be found in the neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did you hope to arrive at through this?" "At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance." "I am afraid that you will find it difficult." "Are you, indeed, now?" cried Lestrade with some bitterness. "I am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions and your inferences. You have made two blunders in as many minutes. This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar." "And how?" "In the dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card-case. In the card-case is a note. And here is the very note." He slapped it down upon the table in front of him. "Listen to this: 'You will see me when all is ready. Come at once. F.H.M.' Now my theory all along has been that Lady St. Simon was decoyed away by Flora Millar, and that she, with confederates, no doubt, was responsible for her disappearance. Here, signed with her initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly slipped into her hand at the door and which lured her within their reach." "Very good, Lestrade," said Holmes, laughing. "You really are very fine indeed. Let me see it." He took up the paper in a listless way, but his attention instantly became riveted, and he gave a little cry of satisfaction. "This is indeed important," said he. "Ha! you find it so?" "Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly." Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. "Why," he shrieked, "you're looking at the wrong side!" "On the contrary, this is the right side." "The right side? You're mad! Here is the note written in pencil over here." "And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel bill, which interests me deeply." "There's nothing in it. I looked at it before," said Lestrade. "'Oct. 4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s. 6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s. 6d., glass sherry, 8d.' I see nothing in that." "Very likely not. It is most important, all the same. As to the note, it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I congratulate you again." "I've wasted time enough," said Lestrade, rising. "I believe in hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories. Good-day, Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom of the matter first." He gathered up the garments, thrust them into the bag, and made for the door. "Just one hint to you, Lestrade," drawled Holmes before his rival vanished; "I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any such person." Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, tapped his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and hurried away. He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on his overcoat. "There is something in what the fellow says about outdoor work," he remarked, "so I think, Watson, that I must leave you to your papers for a little." It was after five o'clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I had no time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a confectioner's man with a very large flat box. This he unpacked with the help of a youth whom he had brought with him, and presently, to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean little cold supper began to be laid out upon our humble lodging-house mahogany. There were a couple of brace of cold woodcock, a pheasant, a pâté de foie gras pie with a group of ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries, my two visitors vanished away, like the genii of the Arabian Nights, with no explanation save that the things had been paid for and were ordered to this address. Just before nine o'clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the room. His features were gravely set, but there was a light in his eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his conclusions. "They have laid the supper, then," he said, rubbing his hands. "You seem to expect company. They have laid for five." "Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in," said he. "I am surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived. Ha! I fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs." It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features. "My messenger reached you, then?" asked Holmes. "Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure. Have you good authority for what you say?" "The best possible." Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his forehead. "What will the Duke say," he murmured, "when he hears that one of the family has been subjected to such humiliation?" "It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any humiliation." "Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint." "I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she had no one to advise her at such a crisis." "It was a slight, sir, a public slight," said Lord St. Simon, tapping his fingers upon the table. "You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so unprecedented a position." "I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have been shamefully used." "I think that I heard a ring," said Holmes. "Yes, there are steps on the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view of the matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here who may be more successful." He opened the door and ushered in a lady and gentleman. "Lord St. Simon," said he "allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hay Moulton. The lady, I think, you have already met." At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his seat and stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand thrust into the breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended dignity. The lady had taken a quick step forward and had held out her hand to him, but he still refused to raise his eyes. It was as well for his resolution, perhaps, for her pleading face was one which it was hard to resist. "You're angry, Robert," said she. "Well, I guess you have every cause to be." "Pray make no apology to me," said Lord St. Simon bitterly. "Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I should have spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of rattled, and from the time when I saw Frank here again I just didn't know what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I didn't fall down and do a faint right there before the altar." "Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the room while you explain this matter?" "If I may give an opinion," remarked the strange gentleman, "we've had just a little too much secrecy over this business already. For my part, I should like all Europe and America to hear the rights of it." He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man, clean-shaven, with a sharp face and alert manner. "Then I'll tell our story right away," said the lady. "Frank here and I met in '84, in McQuire's camp, near the Rockies, where pa was working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I; but then one day father struck a rich pocket and made a pile, while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out and came to nothing. The richer pa grew the poorer was Frank; so at last pa wouldn't hear of our engagement lasting any longer, and he took me away to 'Frisco. Frank wouldn't throw up his hand, though; so he followed me there, and he saw me without pa knowing anything about it. It would only have made him mad to know, so we just fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that he would go and make his pile, too, and never come back to claim me until he had as much as pa. So then I promised to wait for him to the end of time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he lived. 'Why shouldn't we be married right away, then,' said he, 'and then I will feel sure of you; and I won't claim to be your husband until I come back?' Well, we talked it over, and he had fixed it all up so nicely, with a clergyman all ready in waiting, that we just did it right there; and then Frank went off to seek his fortune, and I went back to pa. "The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and then he went prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him from New Mexico. After that came a long newspaper story about how a miners' camp had been attacked by Apache Indians, and there was my Frank's name among the killed. I fainted dead away, and I was very sick for months after. Pa thought I had a decline and took me to half the doctors in 'Frisco. Not a word of news came for a year and more, so that I never doubted that Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to 'Frisco, and we came to London, and a marriage was arranged, and pa was very pleased, but I felt all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place in my heart that had been given to my poor Frank. "Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I'd have done my duty by him. We can't command our love, but we can our actions. I went to the altar with him with the intention to make him just as good a wife as it was in me to be. But you may imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first; but when I looked again there he was still, with a kind of question in his eyes, as if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I wonder I didn't drop. I know that everything was turning round, and the words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my ear. I didn't know what to do. Should I stop the service and make a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he seemed to know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to his lips to tell me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, and I knew that he was writing me a note. As I passed his pew on the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him, and he slipped the note into my hand when he returned me the flowers. It was only a line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so. Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now to him, and I determined to do just whatever he might direct. "When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in California, and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but to get a few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before his mother and all those great people. I just made up my mind to run away and explain afterwards. I hadn't been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frank out of the window at the other side of the road. He beckoned to me and then began walking into the Park. I slipped out, put on my things, and followed him. Some woman came talking something or other about Lord St. Simon to me--seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little secret of his own before marriage also--but I managed to get away from her and soon overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and that was my true wedding after all those years of waiting. Frank had been a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to 'Frisco, found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to England, followed me there, and had come upon me at last on the very morning of my second wedding." "I saw it in a paper," explained the American. "It gave the name and the church but not where the lady lived." "Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all for openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I should like to vanish away and never see any of them again--just sending a line to pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting round that breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back. So Frank took my wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of them, so that I should not be traced, and dropped them away somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that this good gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though how he found us is more than I can think, and he showed us very clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right, and that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord St. Simon alone, and so we came right away round to his rooms at once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very meanly of me." Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this long narrative. "Excuse me," he said, "but it is not my custom to discuss my most intimate personal affairs in this public manner." "Then you won't forgive me? You won't shake hands before I go?" "Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure." He put out his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him. "I had hoped," suggested Holmes, "that you would have joined us in a friendly supper." "I think that there you ask a little too much," responded his Lordship. "I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent developments, but I can hardly be expected to make merry over them. I think that with your permission I will now wish you all a very good-night." He included us all in a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room. "Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your company," said Sherlock Holmes. "It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believe that the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes." "The case has been an interesting one," remarked Holmes when our visitors had left us, "because it serves to show very clearly how simple the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady, and nothing stranger than the result when viewed, for instance, by Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard." "You were not yourself at fault at all, then?" "From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes of returning home. Obviously something had occurred during the morning, then, to cause her to change her mind. What could that something be? She could not have spoken to anyone when she was out, for she had been in the company of the bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it must be someone from America because she had spent so short a time in this country that she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep an influence over her that the mere sight of him would induce her to change her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by a process of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an American. Then who could this American be, and why should he possess so much influence over her? It might be a lover; it might be a husband. Her young womanhood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and under strange conditions. So far I had got before I ever heard Lord St. Simon's narrative. When he told us of a man in a pew, of the change in the bride's manner, of so transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet, of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her very significant allusion to claim-jumping--which in miners' parlance means taking possession of that which another person has a prior claim to--the whole situation became absolutely clear. She had gone off with a man, and the man was either a lover or was a previous husband--the chances being in favour of the latter." "And how in the world did you find them?" "It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in his hands the value of which he did not himself know. The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, but more valuable still was it to know that within a week he had settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels." "How did you deduce the select?" "By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels. There are not many in London which charge at that rate. In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an American gentleman, had left only the day before, and on looking over the entries against him, I came upon the very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give them some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be better in every way that they should make their position a little clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in particular. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I made him keep the appointment." "But with no very good result," I remarked. "His conduct was certainly not very gracious." "Ah, Watson," said Holmes, smiling, "perhaps you would not be very gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings." XI. THE ADVENTURE OF THE BERYL CORONET "Holmes," said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down the street, "here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone." My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands in the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It was a bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed into a brown crumbly band by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths it still lay as white as when it fell. The grey pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual. Indeed, from the direction of the Metropolitan Station no one was coming save the single gentleman whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention. He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress and features, for he was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs. As he ran he jerked his hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed his face into the most extraordinary contortions. "What on earth can be the matter with him?" I asked. "He is looking up at the numbers of the houses." "I believe that he is coming here," said Holmes, rubbing his hands. "Here?" "Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?" As he spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging. A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and pity. For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room. Sherlock Holmes pushed him down into the easy-chair and, sitting beside him, patted his hand and chatted with him in the easy, soothing tones which he knew so well how to employ. "You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?" said he. "You are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have recovered yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little problem which you may submit to me." The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his brow, set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us. "No doubt you think me mad?" said he. "I see that you have had some great trouble," responded Holmes. "God knows I have!--a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might have faced, although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain. Private affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming together, and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found out of this horrible affair." "Pray compose yourself, sir," said Holmes, "and let me have a clear account of who you are and what it is that has befallen you." "My name," answered our visitor, "is probably familiar to your ears. I am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson, of Threadneedle Street." The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City of London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost citizens of London to this most pitiable pass? We waited, all curiosity, until with another effort he braced himself to tell his story. "I feel that time is of value," said he; "that is why I hastened here when the police inspector suggested that I should secure your co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little exercise. I feel better now, and I will put the facts before you as shortly and yet as clearly as I can. "It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection and the number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means of laying out money is in the shape of loans, where the security is unimpeachable. We have done a good deal in this direction during the last few years, and there are many noble families to whom we have advanced large sums upon the security of their pictures, libraries, or plate. "Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a card was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I saw the name, for it was that of none other than--well, perhaps even to you I had better say no more than that it was a name which is a household word all over the earth--one of the highest, noblest, most exalted names in England. I was overwhelmed by the honour and attempted, when he entered, to say so, but he plunged at once into business with the air of a man who wishes to hurry quickly through a disagreeable task. "'Mr. Holder,' said he, 'I have been informed that you are in the habit of advancing money.' "'The firm does so when the security is good.' I answered. "'It is absolutely essential to me,' said he, 'that I should have 50,000 pounds at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a sum ten times over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it a matter of business and to carry out that business myself. In my position you can readily understand that it is unwise to place one's self under obligations.' "'For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?' I asked. "'Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you think it right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the money should be paid at once.' "'I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my own private purse,' said I, 'were it not that the strain would be rather more than it could bear. If, on the other hand, I am to do it in the name of the firm, then in justice to my partner I must insist that, even in your case, every businesslike precaution should be taken.' "'I should much prefer to have it so,' said he, raising up a square, black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair. 'You have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?' "'One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,' said I. "'Precisely.' He opened the case, and there, imbedded in soft, flesh-coloured velvet, lay the magnificent piece of jewellery which he had named. 'There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,' said he, 'and the price of the gold chasing is incalculable. The lowest estimate would put the worth of the coronet at double the sum which I have asked. I am prepared to leave it with you as my security.' "I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some perplexity from it to my illustrious client. "'You doubt its value?' he asked. "'Not at all. I only doubt--' "'The propriety of my leaving it. You may set your mind at rest about that. I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely certain that I should be able in four days to reclaim it. It is a pure matter of form. Is the security sufficient?' "'Ample.' "'You understand, Mr. Holder, that I am giving you a strong proof of the confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that I have heard of you. I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to refrain from all gossip upon the matter but, above all, to preserve this coronet with every possible precaution because I need not say that a great public scandal would be caused if any harm were to befall it. Any injury to it would be almost as serious as its complete loss, for there are no beryls in the world to match these, and it would be impossible to replace them. I leave it with you, however, with every confidence, and I shall call for it in person on Monday morning.' "Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I said no more but, calling for my cashier, I ordered him to pay over fifty 1000 pound notes. When I was alone once more, however, with the precious case lying upon the table in front of me, I could not but think with some misgivings of the immense responsibility which it entailed upon me. There could be no doubt that, as it was a national possession, a horrible scandal would ensue if any misfortune should occur to it. I already regretted having ever consented to take charge of it. However, it was too late to alter the matter now, so I locked it up in my private safe and turned once more to my work. "When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave so precious a thing in the office behind me. Bankers' safes had been forced before now, and why should not mine be? If so, how terrible would be the position in which I should find myself! I determined, therefore, that for the next few days I would always carry the case backward and forward with me, so that it might never be really out of my reach. With this intention, I called a cab and drove out to my house at Streatham, carrying the jewel with me. I did not breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs and locked it in the bureau of my dressing-room. "And now a word as to my household, Mr. Holmes, for I wish you to thoroughly understand the situation. My groom and my page sleep out of the house, and may be set aside altogether. I have three maid-servants who have been with me a number of years and whose absolute reliability is quite above suspicion. Another, Lucy Parr, the second waiting-maid, has only been in my service a few months. She came with an excellent character, however, and has always given me satisfaction. She is a very pretty girl and has attracted admirers who have occasionally hung about the place. That is the only drawback which we have found to her, but we believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way. "So much for the servants. My family itself is so small that it will not take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have an only son, Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. Holmes--a grievous disappointment. I have no doubt that I am myself to blame. People tell me that I have spoiled him. Very likely I have. When my dear wife died I felt that he was all I had to love. I could not bear to see the smile fade even for a moment from his face. I have never denied him a wish. Perhaps it would have been better for both of us had I been sterner, but I meant it for the best. "It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my business, but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, wayward, and, to speak the truth, I could not trust him in the handling of large sums of money. When he was young he became a member of an aristocratic club, and there, having charming manners, he was soon the intimate of a number of men with long purses and expensive habits. He learned to play heavily at cards and to squander money on the turf, until he had again and again to come to me and implore me to give him an advance upon his allowance, that he might settle his debts of honour. He tried more than once to break away from the dangerous company which he was keeping, but each time the influence of his friend, Sir George Burnwell, was enough to draw him back again. "And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George Burnwell should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently brought him to my house, and I have found myself that I could hardly resist the fascination of his manner. He is older than Arthur, a man of the world to his finger-tips, one who had been everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker, and a man of great personal beauty. Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far away from the glamour of his presence, I am convinced from his cynical speech and the look which I have caught in his eyes that he is one who should be deeply distrusted. So I think, and so, too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman's quick insight into character. "And now there is only she to be described. She is my niece; but when my brother died five years ago and left her alone in the world I adopted her, and have looked upon her ever since as my daughter. She is a sunbeam in my house--sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager and housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and gentle as a woman could be. She is my right hand. I do not know what I could do without her. In only one matter has she ever gone against my wishes. Twice my boy has asked her to marry him, for he loves her devotedly, but each time she has refused him. I think that if anyone could have drawn him into the right path it would have been she, and that his marriage might have changed his whole life; but now, alas! it is too late--forever too late! "Now, Mr. Holmes, you know the people who live under my roof, and I shall continue with my miserable story. "When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after dinner, I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious treasure which we had under our roof, suppressing only the name of my client. Lucy Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am sure, left the room; but I cannot swear that the door was closed. Mary and Arthur were much interested and wished to see the famous coronet, but I thought it better not to disturb it. "'Where have you put it?' asked Arthur. "'In my own bureau.' "'Well, I hope to goodness the house won't be burgled during the night.' said he. "'It is locked up,' I answered. "'Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I was a youngster I have opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.' "He often had a wild way of talking, so that I thought little of what he said. He followed me to my room, however, that night with a very grave face. "'Look here, dad,' said he with his eyes cast down, 'can you let me have 200 pounds?' "'No, I cannot!' I answered sharply. 'I have been far too generous with you in money matters.' "'You have been very kind,' said he, 'but I must have this money, or else I can never show my face inside the club again.' "'And a very good thing, too!' I cried. "'Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured man,' said he. 'I could not bear the disgrace. I must raise the money in some way, and if you will not let me have it, then I must try other means.' "I was very angry, for this was the third demand during the month. 'You shall not have a farthing from me,' I cried, on which he bowed and left the room without another word. "When he was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure that my treasure was safe, and locked it again. Then I started to go round the house to see that all was secure--a duty which I usually leave to Mary but which I thought it well to perform myself that night. As I came down the stairs I saw Mary herself at the side window of the hall, which she closed and fastened as I approached. "'Tell me, dad,' said she, looking, I thought, a little disturbed, 'did you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out to-night?' "'Certainly not.' "'She came in just now by the back door. I have no doubt that she has only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that it is hardly safe and should be stopped.' "'You must speak to her in the morning, or I will if you prefer it. Are you sure that everything is fastened?' "'Quite sure, dad.' "'Then, good-night.' I kissed her and went up to my bedroom again, where I was soon asleep. "I am endeavouring to tell you everything, Mr. Holmes, which may have any bearing upon the case, but I beg that you will question me upon any point which I do not make clear." "On the contrary, your statement is singularly lucid." "I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be particularly so. I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety in my mind tended, no doubt, to make me even less so than usual. About two in the morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in the house. It had ceased ere I was wide awake, but it had left an impression behind it as though a window had gently closed somewhere. I lay listening with all my ears. Suddenly, to my horror, there was a distinct sound of footsteps moving softly in the next room. I slipped out of bed, all palpitating with fear, and peeped round the corner of my dressing-room door. "'Arthur!' I screamed, 'you villain! you thief! How dare you touch that coronet?' "The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my unhappy boy, dressed only in his shirt and trousers, was standing beside the light, holding the coronet in his hands. He appeared to be wrenching at it, or bending it with all his strength. At my cry he dropped it from his grasp and turned as pale as death. I snatched it up and examined it. One of the gold corners, with three of the beryls in it, was missing. "'You blackguard!' I shouted, beside myself with rage. 'You have destroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the jewels which you have stolen?' "'Stolen!' he cried. "'Yes, thief!' I roared, shaking him by the shoulder. "'There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,' said he. "'There are three missing. And you know where they are. Must I call you a liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to tear off another piece?' "'You have called me names enough,' said he, 'I will not stand it any longer. I shall not say another word about this business, since you have chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in the morning and make my own way in the world.' "'You shall leave it in the hands of the police!' I cried half-mad with grief and rage. 'I shall have this matter probed to the bottom.' "'You shall learn nothing from me,' said he with a passion such as I should not have thought was in his nature. 'If you choose to call the police, let the police find what they can.' "By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my voice in my anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, at the sight of the coronet and of Arthur's face, she read the whole story and, with a scream, fell down senseless on the ground. I sent the house-maid for the police and put the investigation into their hands at once. When the inspector and a constable entered the house, Arthur, who had stood sullenly with his arms folded, asked me whether it was my intention to charge him with theft. I answered that it had ceased to be a private matter, but had become a public one, since the ruined coronet was national property. I was determined that the law should have its way in everything. "'At least,' said he, 'you will not have me arrested at once. It would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the house for five minutes.' "'That you may get away, or perhaps that you may conceal what you have stolen,' said I. And then, realising the dreadful position in which I was placed, I implored him to remember that not only my honour but that of one who was far greater than I was at stake; and that he threatened to raise a scandal which would convulse the nation. He might avert it all if he would but tell me what he had done with the three missing stones. "'You may as well face the matter,' said I; 'you have been caught in the act, and no confession could make your guilt more heinous. If you but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling us where the beryls are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.' "'Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,' he answered, turning away from me with a sneer. I saw that he was too hardened for any words of mine to influence him. There was but one way for it. I called in the inspector and gave him into custody. A search was made at once not only of his person but of his room and of every portion of the house where he could possibly have concealed the gems; but no trace of them could be found, nor would the wretched boy open his mouth for all our persuasions and our threats. This morning he was removed to a cell, and I, after going through all the police formalities, have hurried round to you to implore you to use your skill in unravelling the matter. The police have openly confessed that they can at present make nothing of it. You may go to any expense which you think necessary. I have already offered a reward of 1000 pounds. My God, what shall I do! I have lost my honour, my gems, and my son in one night. Oh, what shall I do!" He put a hand on either side of his head and rocked himself to and fro, droning to himself like a child whose grief has got beyond words. Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with his brows knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire. "Do you receive much company?" he asked. "None save my partner with his family and an occasional friend of Arthur's. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No one else, I think." "Do you go out much in society?" "Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither of us care for it." "That is unusual in a young girl." "She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not so very young. She is four-and-twenty." "This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to her also." "Terrible! She is even more affected than I." "You have neither of you any doubt as to your son's guilt?" "How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet in his hands." "I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was the remainder of the coronet at all injured?" "Yes, it was twisted." "Do you not think, then, that he might have been trying to straighten it?" "God bless you! You are doing what you can for him and for me. But it is too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If his purpose were innocent, why did he not say so?" "Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not invent a lie? His silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are several singular points about the case. What did the police think of the noise which awoke you from your sleep?" "They considered that it might be caused by Arthur's closing his bedroom door." "A likely story! As if a man bent on felony would slam his door so as to wake a household. What did they say, then, of the disappearance of these gems?" "They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture in the hope of finding them." "Have they thought of looking outside the house?" "Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy. The whole garden has already been minutely examined." "Now, my dear sir," said Holmes, "is it not obvious to you now that this matter really strikes very much deeper than either you or the police were at first inclined to think? It appeared to you to be a simple case; to me it seems exceedingly complex. Consider what is involved by your theory. You suppose that your son came down from his bed, went, at great risk, to your dressing-room, opened your bureau, took out your coronet, broke off by main force a small portion of it, went off to some other place, concealed three gems out of the thirty-nine, with such skill that nobody can find them, and then returned with the other thirty-six into the room in which he exposed himself to the greatest danger of being discovered. I ask you now, is such a theory tenable?" "But what other is there?" cried the banker with a gesture of despair. "If his motives were innocent, why does he not explain them?" "It is our task to find that out," replied Holmes; "so now, if you please, Mr. Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, and devote an hour to glancing a little more closely into details." My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition, which I was eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy were deeply stirred by the story to which we had listened. I confess that the guilt of the banker's son appeared to me to be as obvious as it did to his unhappy father, but still I had such faith in Holmes' judgment that I felt that there must be some grounds for hope as long as he was dissatisfied with the accepted explanation. He hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the southern suburb, but sat with his chin upon his breast and his hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in the deepest thought. Our client appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of hope which had been presented to him, and he even broke into a desultory chat with me over his business affairs. A short railway journey and a shorter walk brought us to Fairbank, the modest residence of the great financier. Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing back a little from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a snow-clad lawn, stretched down in front to two large iron gates which closed the entrance. On the right side was a small wooden thicket, which led into a narrow path between two neat hedges stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and forming the tradesmen's entrance. On the left ran a lane which led to the stables, and was not itself within the grounds at all, being a public, though little used, thoroughfare. Holmes left us standing at the door and walked slowly all round the house, across the front, down the tradesmen's path, and so round by the garden behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder and I went into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should return. We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and a young lady came in. She was rather above the middle height, slim, with dark hair and eyes, which seemed the darker against the absolute pallor of her skin. I do not think that I have ever seen such deadly paleness in a woman's face. Her lips, too, were bloodless, but her eyes were flushed with crying. As she swept silently into the room she impressed me with a greater sense of grief than the banker had done in the morning, and it was the more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong character, with immense capacity for self-restraint. Disregarding my presence, she went straight to her uncle and passed her hand over his head with a sweet womanly caress. "You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated, have you not, dad?" she asked. "No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to the bottom." "But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know what woman's instincts are. I know that he has done no harm and that you will be sorry for having acted so harshly." "Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?" "Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that you should suspect him." "How could I help suspecting him, when I actually saw him with the coronet in his hand?" "Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it. Oh, do, do take my word for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and say no more. It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in prison!" "I shall never let it drop until the gems are found--never, Mary! Your affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences to me. Far from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleman down from London to inquire more deeply into it." "This gentleman?" she asked, facing round to me. "No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone. He is round in the stable lane now." "The stable lane?" She raised her dark eyebrows. "What can he hope to find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, that you will succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, that my cousin Arthur is innocent of this crime." "I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may prove it," returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the snow from his shoes. "I believe I have the honour of addressing Miss Mary Holder. Might I ask you a question or two?" "Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up." "You heard nothing yourself last night?" "Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly. I heard that, and I came down." "You shut up the windows and doors the night before. Did you fasten all the windows?" "Yes." "Were they all fastened this morning?" "Yes." "You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think that you remarked to your uncle last night that she had been out to see him?" "Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room, and who may have heard uncle's remarks about the coronet." "I see. You infer that she may have gone out to tell her sweetheart, and that the two may have planned the robbery." "But what is the good of all these vague theories," cried the banker impatiently, "when I have told you that I saw Arthur with the coronet in his hands?" "Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to that. About this girl, Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I presume?" "Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I met her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom." "Do you know him?" "Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables round. His name is Francis Prosper." "He stood," said Holmes, "to the left of the door--that is to say, farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?" "Yes, he did." "And he is a man with a wooden leg?" Something like fear sprang up in the young lady's expressive black eyes. "Why, you are like a magician," said she. "How do you know that?" She smiled, but there was no answering smile in Holmes' thin, eager face. "I should be very glad now to go upstairs," said he. "I shall probably wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up." He walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only at the large one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane. This he opened and made a very careful examination of the sill with his powerful magnifying lens. "Now we shall go upstairs," said he at last. The banker's dressing-room was a plainly furnished little chamber, with a grey carpet, a large bureau, and a long mirror. Holmes went to the bureau first and looked hard at the lock. "Which key was used to open it?" he asked. "That which my son himself indicated--that of the cupboard of the lumber-room." "Have you it here?" "That is it on the dressing-table." Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau. "It is a noiseless lock," said he. "It is no wonder that it did not wake you. This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We must have a look at it." He opened the case, and taking out the diadem he laid it upon the table. It was a magnificent specimen of the jeweller's art, and the thirty-six stones were the finest that I have ever seen. At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge, where a corner holding three gems had been torn away. "Now, Mr. Holder," said Holmes, "here is the corner which corresponds to that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I beg that you will break it off." The banker recoiled in horror. "I should not dream of trying," said he. "Then I will." Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it, but without result. "I feel it give a little," said he; "but, though I am exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my time to break it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do you think would happen if I did break it, Mr. Holder? There would be a noise like a pistol shot. Do you tell me that all this happened within a few yards of your bed and that you heard nothing of it?" "I do not know what to think. It is all dark to me." "But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What do you think, Miss Holder?" "I confess that I still share my uncle's perplexity." "Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him?" "He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt." "Thank you. We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary luck during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own fault if we do not succeed in clearing the matter up. With your permission, Mr. Holder, I shall now continue my investigations outside." He went alone, at his own request, for he explained that any unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult. For an hour or more he was at work, returning at last with his feet heavy with snow and his features as inscrutable as ever. "I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, Mr. Holder," said he; "I can serve you best by returning to my rooms." "But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?" "I cannot tell." The banker wrung his hands. "I shall never see them again!" he cried. "And my son? You give me hopes?" "My opinion is in no way altered." "Then, for God's sake, what was this dark business which was acted in my house last night?" "If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow morning between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to make it clearer. I understand that you give me carte blanche to act for you, provided only that I get back the gems, and that you place no limit on the sum I may draw." "I would give my fortune to have them back." "Very good. I shall look into the matter between this and then. Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here again before evening." It was obvious to me that my companion's mind was now made up about the case, although what his conclusions were was more than I could even dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward journey I endeavoured to sound him upon the point, but he always glided away to some other topic, until at last I gave it over in despair. It was not yet three when we found ourselves in our rooms once more. He hurried to his chamber and was down again in a few minutes dressed as a common loafer. With his collar turned up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red cravat, and his worn boots, he was a perfect sample of the class. "I think that this should do," said he, glancing into the glass above the fireplace. "I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I fear that it won't do. I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few hours." He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard, sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition. I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in excellent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his hand. He chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a cup of tea. "I only looked in as I passed," said he. "I am going right on." "Where to?" "Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time before I get back. Don't wait up for me in case I should be late." "How are you getting on?" "Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to Streatham since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is a very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a good deal. However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly respectable self." I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled, and there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks. He hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of the hall door, which told me that he was off once more upon his congenial hunt. I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that his lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he came in, but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other, as fresh and trim as possible. "You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson," said he, "but you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this morning." "Why, it is after nine now," I answered. "I should not be surprised if that were he. I thought I heard a ring." It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter. He entered with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than his violence of the morning before, and he dropped heavily into the armchair which I pushed forward for him. "I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried," said he. "Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted me." "Deserted you?" "Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room was empty, and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had married my boy all might have been well with him. Perhaps it was thoughtless of me to say so. It is to that remark that she refers in this note: "'MY DEAREST UNCLE:--I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me. In life or in death, I am ever your loving,--MARY.' "What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes? Do you think it points to suicide?" "No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible solution. I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of your troubles." "Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr. Holmes; you have learned something! Where are the gems?" "You would not think 1000 pounds apiece an excessive sum for them?" "I would pay ten." "That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. And there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book? Here is a pen. Better make it out for 4000 pounds." With a dazed face the banker made out the required check. Holmes walked over to his desk, took out a little triangular piece of gold with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table. With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up. "You have it!" he gasped. "I am saved! I am saved!" The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been, and he hugged his recovered gems to his bosom. "There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder," said Sherlock Holmes rather sternly. "Owe!" He caught up a pen. "Name the sum, and I will pay it." "No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one." "Then it was not Arthur who took them?" "I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not." "You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know that the truth is known." "He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an interview with him, and finding that he would not tell me the story, I told it to him, on which he had to confess that I was right and to add the very few details which were not yet quite clear to me. Your news of this morning, however, may open his lips." "For heaven's sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary mystery!" "I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached it. And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together." "My Mary? Impossible!" "It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England--a ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what he said, but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing him nearly every evening." "I cannot, and I will not, believe it!" cried the banker with an ashen face. "I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. Your niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room, slipped down and talked to her lover through the window which leads into the stable lane. His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he stood there. She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and he bent her to his will. I have no doubt that she loved you, but there are women in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all other loves, and I think that she must have been one. She had hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you about one of the servants' escapade with her wooden-legged lover, which was all perfectly true. "Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but he slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. In the middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, so he rose and, looking out, was surprised to see his cousin walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared into your dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment, the lad slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what would come of this strange affair. Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious coronet in her hands. She passed down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran along and slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to her room, passing quite close to where he stood hid behind the curtain. "As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the instant that she was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune this would be for you, and how all-important it was to set it right. He rushed down, just as he was, in his bare feet, opened the window, sprang out into the snow, and ran down the lane, where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. Sir George Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur caught him, and there was a struggle between them, your lad tugging at one side of the coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the scuffle, your son struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet in his hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your room, and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in the struggle and was endeavouring to straighten it when you appeared upon the scene." "Is it possible?" gasped the banker. "You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when he felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved her secret." "And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the coronet," cried Mr. Holder. "Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have been! And his asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! The dear fellow wanted to see if the missing piece were at the scene of the struggle. How cruelly I have misjudged him!" "When I arrived at the house," continued Holmes, "I at once went very carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in the snow which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since the evening before, and also that there had been a strong frost to preserve impressions. I passed along the tradesmen's path, but found it all trampled down and indistinguishable. Just beyond it, however, at the far side of the kitchen door, a woman had stood and talked with a man, whose round impressions on one side showed that he had a wooden leg. I could even tell that they had been disturbed, for the woman had run back swiftly to the door, as was shown by the deep toe and light heel marks, while Wooden-leg had waited a little, and then had gone away. I thought at the time that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of whom you had already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I passed round the garden without seeing anything more than random tracks, which I took to be the police; but when I got into the stable lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in front of me. "There was a double line of tracks of a booted man, and a second double line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with naked feet. I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the latter was your son. The first had walked both ways, but the other had run swiftly, and as his tread was marked in places over the depression of the boot, it was obvious that he had passed after the other. I followed them up and found they led to the hall window, where Boots had worn all the snow away while waiting. Then I walked to the other end, which was a hundred yards or more down the lane. I saw where Boots had faced round, where the snow was cut up as though there had been a struggle, and, finally, where a few drops of blood had fallen, to show me that I was not mistaken. Boots had then run down the lane, and another little smudge of blood showed that it was he who had been hurt. When he came to the highroad at the other end, I found that the pavement had been cleared, so there was an end to that clue. "On entering the house, however, I examined, as you remember, the sill and framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could at once see that someone had passed out. I could distinguish the outline of an instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming in. I was then beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what had occurred. A man had waited outside the window; someone had brought the gems; the deed had been overseen by your son; he had pursued the thief; had struggled with him; they had each tugged at the coronet, their united strength causing injuries which neither alone could have effected. He had returned with the prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp of his opponent. So far I was clear. The question now was, who was the man and who was it brought him the coronet? "It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Now, I knew that it was not you who had brought it down, so there only remained your niece and the maids. But if it were the maids, why should your son allow himself to be accused in their place? There could be no possible reason. As he loved his cousin, however, there was an excellent explanation why he should retain her secret--the more so as the secret was a disgraceful one. When I remembered that you had seen her at that window, and how she had fainted on seeing the coronet again, my conjecture became a certainty. "And who could it be who was her confederate? A lover evidently, for who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she must feel to you? I knew that you went out little, and that your circle of friends was a very limited one. But among them was Sir George Burnwell. I had heard of him before as being a man of evil reputation among women. It must have been he who wore those boots and retained the missing gems. Even though he knew that Arthur had discovered him, he might still flatter himself that he was safe, for the lad could not say a word without compromising his own family. "Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures I took next. I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George's house, managed to pick up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that his master had cut his head the night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, made all sure by buying a pair of his cast-off shoes. With these I journeyed down to Streatham and saw that they exactly fitted the tracks." "I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening," said Mr. Holder. "Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man, so I came home and changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to play then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in the matter. I went and saw him. At first, of course, he denied everything. But when I gave him every particular that had occurred, he tried to bluster and took down a life-preserver from the wall. I knew my man, however, and I clapped a pistol to his head before he could strike. Then he became a little more reasonable. I told him that we would give him a price for the stones he held--1000 pounds apiece. That brought out the first signs of grief that he had shown. 'Why, dash it all!' said he, 'I've let them go at six hundred for the three!' I soon managed to get the address of the receiver who had them, on promising him that there would be no prosecution. Off I set to him, and after much chaffering I got our stones at 1000 pounds apiece. Then I looked in upon your son, told him that all was right, and eventually got to my bed about two o'clock, after what I may call a really hard day's work." "A day which has saved England from a great public scandal," said the banker, rising. "Sir, I cannot find words to thank you, but you shall not find me ungrateful for what you have done. Your skill has indeed exceeded all that I have heard of it. And now I must fly to my dear boy to apologise to him for the wrong which I have done him. As to what you tell me of poor Mary, it goes to my very heart. Not even your skill can inform me where she is now." "I think that we may safely say," returned Holmes, "that she is wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than sufficient punishment." XII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES "To the man who loves art for its own sake," remarked Sherlock Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily Telegraph, "it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in these little records of our cases which you have been good enough to draw up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have given prominence not so much to the many causes célèbres and sensational trials in which I have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been trivial in themselves, but which have given room for those faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made my special province." "And yet," said I, smiling, "I cannot quite hold myself absolved from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my records." "You have erred, perhaps," he observed, taking up a glowing cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood--"you have erred perhaps in attempting to put colour and life into each of your statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about the thing." "It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter," I remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend's singular character. "No, it is not selfishness or conceit," said he, answering, as was his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. "If I claim full justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing--a thing beyond myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of tales." It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared yet. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings. "At the same time," he remarked after a pause, during which he had sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, "you can hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases which you have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble bachelor, were all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the trivial." "The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to have been novel and of interest." "Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I have touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy. Read it!" He tossed a crumpled letter across to me. It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran thus: "DEAR MR. HOLMES:--I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you. Yours faithfully, "VIOLET HUNTER." "Do you know the young lady?" I asked. "Not I." "It is half-past ten now." "Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring." "It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so in this case, also." "Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question." As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a plover's egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had her own way to make in the world. "You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," said she, as my companion rose to greet her, "but I have had a very strange experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do." "Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that I can to serve you." I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his finger-tips together, to listen to her story. "I have been a governess for five years," said she, "in the family of Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to America with him, so that I found myself without a situation. I advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success. At last the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was at my wit's end as to what I should do. "There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called Westaway's, and there I used to call about once a week in order to see whether anything had turned up which might suit me. Westaway was the name of the founder of the business, but it is really managed by Miss Stoper. She sits in her own little office, and the ladies who are seeking employment wait in an anteroom, and are then shown in one by one, when she consults her ledgers and sees whether she has anything which would suit them. "Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A prodigiously stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy chin which rolled down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at her elbow with a pair of glasses on his nose, looking very earnestly at the ladies who entered. As I came in he gave quite a jump in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper. "'That will do,' said he; 'I could not ask for anything better. Capital! capital!' He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his hands together in the most genial fashion. He was such a comfortable-looking man that it was quite a pleasure to look at him. "'You are looking for a situation, miss?' he asked. "'Yes, sir.' "'As governess?' "'Yes, sir.' "'And what salary do you ask?' "'I had 4 pounds a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.' "'Oh, tut, tut! sweating--rank sweating!' he cried, throwing his fat hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling passion. 'How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions and accomplishments?' "'My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,' said I. 'A little French, a little German, music, and drawing--' "'Tut, tut!' he cried. 'This is all quite beside the question. The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are not fitted for the rearing of a child who may some day play a considerable part in the history of the country. But if you have why, then, how could any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under the three figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at 100 pounds a year.' "You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, however, seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, opened a pocket-book and took out a note. "'It is also my custom,' said he, smiling in the most pleasant fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the white creases of his face, 'to advance to my young ladies half their salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.' "It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtful a man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the advance was a great convenience, and yet there was something unnatural about the whole transaction which made me wish to know a little more before I quite committed myself. "'May I ask where you live, sir?' said I. "'Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles on the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear young lady, and the dearest old country-house.' "'And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.' "'One child--one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack! smack! Three gone before you could wink!' He leaned back in his chair and laughed his eyes into his head again. "I was a little startled at the nature of the child's amusement, but the father's laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking. "'My sole duties, then,' I asked, 'are to take charge of a single child?' "'No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,' he cried. 'Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey any little commands my wife might give, provided always that they were such commands as a lady might with propriety obey. You see no difficulty, heh?' "'I should be happy to make myself useful.' "'Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you know--faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress which we might give you, you would not object to our little whim. Heh?' "'No,' said I, considerably astonished at his words. "'Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?' "'Oh, no.' "'Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?' "I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, my hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of chestnut. It has been considered artistic. I could not dream of sacrificing it in this offhand fashion. "'I am afraid that that is quite impossible,' said I. He had been watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a shadow pass over his face as I spoke. "'I am afraid that it is quite essential,' said he. 'It is a little fancy of my wife's, and ladies' fancies, you know, madam, ladies' fancies must be consulted. And so you won't cut your hair?' "'No, sir, I really could not,' I answered firmly. "'Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a pity, because in other respects you would really have done very nicely. In that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young ladies.' "The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers without a word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so much annoyance upon her face that I could not help suspecting that she had lost a handsome commission through my refusal. "'Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?' she asked. "'If you please, Miss Stoper.' "'Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most excellent offers in this fashion,' said she sharply. 'You can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for you. Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.' She struck a gong upon the table, and I was shown out by the page. "Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table, I began to ask myself whether I had not done a very foolish thing. After all, if these people had strange fads and expected obedience on the most extraordinary matters, they were at least ready to pay for their eccentricity. Very few governesses in England are getting 100 pounds a year. Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next day I was inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go back to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open when I received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it here and I will read it to you: "'The Copper Beeches, near Winchester. "'DEAR MISS HUNTER:--Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your address, and I write from here to ask you whether you have reconsidered your decision. My wife is very anxious that you should come, for she has been much attracted by my description of you. We are willing to give 30 pounds a quarter, or 120 pounds a year, so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience which our fads may cause you. They are not very exacting, after all. My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. You need not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which would, I should think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting here or there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that need cause you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no doubt a pity, especially as I could not help remarking its beauty during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must remain firm upon this point, and I only hope that the increased salary may recompense you for the loss. Your duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light. Now do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at Winchester. Let me know your train. Yours faithfully, JEPHRO RUCASTLE.' "That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that before taking the final step I should like to submit the whole matter to your consideration." "Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the question," said Holmes, smiling. "But you would not advise me to refuse?" "I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a sister of mine apply for." "What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?" "Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed some opinion?" "Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that he humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?" "That is a possible solution--in fact, as matters stand, it is the most probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice household for a young lady." "But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!" "Well, yes, of course the pay is good--too good. That is what makes me uneasy. Why should they give you 120 pounds a year, when they could have their pick for 40 pounds? There must be some strong reason behind." "I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I felt that you were at the back of me." "Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger--" "Danger! What danger do you foresee?" Holmes shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be a danger if we could define it," said he. "But at any time, day or night, a telegram would bring me down to your help." "That is enough." She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety all swept from her face. "I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start for Winchester to-morrow." With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us both good-night and bustled off upon her way. "At least," said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the stairs, "she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take care of herself." "And she would need to be," said Holmes gravely. "I am much mistaken if we do not hear from her before many days are past." It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled. A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it. "Data! data! data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay." And yet he would always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a situation. The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of those all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast in the morning. He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at the message, threw it across to me. "Just look up the trains in Bradshaw," said he, and turned back to his chemical studies. The summons was a brief and urgent one. "Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow," it said. "Do come! I am at my wit's end. HUNTER." "Will you come with me?" asked Holmes, glancing up. "I should wish to." "Just look it up, then." "There is a train at half-past nine," said I, glancing over my Bradshaw. "It is due at Winchester at 11:30." "That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the morning." By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man's energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage. "Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street. But Holmes shook his head gravely. "Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there." "Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?" "They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside." "You horrify me!" "But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she is not personally threatened." "No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away." "Quite so. She has her freedom." "What CAN be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?" "I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can only be determined by the fresh information which we shall no doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell." The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us. She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the table. "I am so delighted that you have come," she said earnestly. "It is so very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do. Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me." "Pray tell us what has happened to you." "I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle to be back before three. I got his leave to come into town this morning, though he little knew for what purpose." "Let us have everything in its due order." Holmes thrust his long thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen. "In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in my mind about them." "What can you not understand?" "Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as it occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp and bad weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton highroad, which curves past about a hundred yards from the front door. This ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all round are part of Lord Southerton's preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately in front of the hall door has given its name to the place. "I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There was no truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I found her to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much younger than her husband, not more than thirty, I should think, while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with her father's young wife. "Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face. More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has little to do with my story." "I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to you to be relevant or not." "I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife. Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one corner of the building. "For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and whispered something to her husband. "'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you, Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and if you would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely obliged.' "The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed quite exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for me in the drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching along the entire front of the house, with three long windows reaching down to the floor. A chair had been placed close to the central window, with its back turned towards it. In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed until I was quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap, and a sad, anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr. Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in the nursery. "Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of which my employer had an immense répertoire, and which he told inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my dress. "You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little management to see all that there was behind me. I confess that I was disappointed. There was nothing. At least that was my first impression. At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road, a small bearded man in a grey suit, who seemed to be looking in my direction. The road is an important highway, and there are usually people there. This man, however, was leaning against the railings which bordered our field and was looking earnestly up. I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle to find her eyes fixed upon me with a most searching gaze. She said nothing, but I am convinced that she had divined that I had a mirror in my hand and had seen what was behind me. She rose at once. "'Jephro,' said she, 'there is an impertinent fellow upon the road there who stares up at Miss Hunter.' "'No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?' he asked. "'No, I know no one in these parts.' "'Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him to go away.' "'Surely it would be better to take no notice.' "'No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn round and wave him away like that.' "I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man in the road." "Pray continue," said Holmes. "Your narrative promises to be a most interesting one." "You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be little relation between the different incidents of which I speak. On the very first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we approached it I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large animal moving about. "'Look in here!' said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two planks. 'Is he not a beauty?' "I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a vague figure huddled up in the darkness. "'Don't be frightened,' said my employer, laughing at the start which I had given. 'It's only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness' sake don't you ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at night, for it's as much as your life is worth.' "The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look out of my bedroom window about two o'clock in the morning. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper beeches. As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones. It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side. That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not think that any burglar could have done. "And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as you know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by examining the furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things. There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones empty and open, the lower one locked. I had filled the first two with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away I was naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer. It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never guess what it was. It was my coil of hair. "I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, and the same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded itself upon me. How could my hair have been locked in the drawer? With trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the contents, and drew from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two tresses together, and I assure you that they were identical. Was it not extraordinary? Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant. I returned the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to the Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer which they had locked. "I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, and I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A door which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked. One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle coming out through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on his face which made him a very different person to the round, jovial man to whom I was accustomed. His cheeks were red, his brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his temples with passion. He locked the door and hurried past me without a word or a look. "This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I could see the windows of this part of the house. There were four of them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the fourth was shuttered up. They were evidently all deserted. As I strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle came out to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever. "'Ah!' said he, 'you must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.' "I assured him that I was not offended. 'By the way,' said I, 'you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them has the shutters up.' "He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my remark. "'Photography is one of my hobbies,' said he. 'I have made my dark room up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we have come upon. Who would have believed it? Who would have ever believed it?' He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as he looked at me. I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest. "Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was all on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, though I have my share of that. It was more a feeling of duty--a feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to this place. They talk of woman's instinct; perhaps it was woman's instinct which gave me that feeling. At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to pass the forbidden door. "It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do in these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black linen bag with him through the door. Recently he has been drinking hard, and yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when I came upstairs there was the key in the door. I have no doubt at all that he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs, and the child was with them, so that I had an admirable opportunity. I turned the key gently in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through. "There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted, which turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round this corner were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open. They each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in the one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through them. The centre door was closed, and across the outside of it had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring in the wall, and fastened at the other with stout cord. The door itself was locked as well, and the key was not there. This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from beneath it that the room was not in darkness. Evidently there was a skylight which let in light from above. As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little slit of dim light which shone out from under the door. A mad, unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran--ran as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, and straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting outside. "'So,' said he, smiling, 'it was you, then. I thought that it must be when I saw the door open.' "'Oh, I am so frightened!' I panted. "'My dear young lady! my dear young lady!'--you cannot think how caressing and soothing his manner was--'and what has frightened you, my dear young lady?' "But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was keenly on my guard against him. "'I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,' I answered. 'But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!' "'Only that?' said he, looking at me keenly. "'Why, what did you think?' I asked. "'Why do you think that I lock this door?' "'I am sure that I do not know.' "'It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?' He was still smiling in the most amiable manner. "'I am sure if I had known--' "'Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again'--here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon--'I'll throw you to the mastiff.' "I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that I must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I found myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I thought of you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there longer without some advice. I was frightened of the house, of the man, of the woman, of the servants, even of the child. They were all horrible to me. If I could only bring you down all would be well. Of course I might have fled from the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears. My mind was soon made up. I would send you a wire. I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then returned, feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt came into my mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one in the household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who would venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you. I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this morning, but I must be back before three o'clock, for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, and will be away all the evening, so that I must look after the child. Now I have told you all my adventures, Mr. Holmes, and I should be very glad if you could tell me what it all means, and, above all, what I should do." Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. My friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his face. "Is Toller still drunk?" he asked. "Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do nothing with him." "That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?" "Yes." "Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?" "Yes, the wine-cellar." "You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional woman." "I will try. What is it?" "We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o'clock, my friend and I. The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely." "I will do it." "Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course there is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. That is obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some friend of hers--possibly her fiancé--and no doubt, as you wore the girl's dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child." "What on earth has that to do with it?" I ejaculated. "My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don't you see that the converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained my first real insight into the character of parents by studying their children. This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power." "I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes," cried our client. "A thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have hit it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor creature." "We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man. We can do nothing until seven o'clock. At that hour we shall be with you, and it will not be long before we solve the mystery." We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house. The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the house even had Miss Hunter not been standing smiling on the door-step. "Have you managed it?" asked Holmes. A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. "That is Mrs. Toller in the cellar," said she. "Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr. Rucastle's." "You have done well indeed!" cried Holmes with enthusiasm. "Now lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business." We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes' face clouded over. "I trust that we are not too late," said he. "I think, Miss Hunter, that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in." It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone. "There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has guessed Miss Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim off." "But how?" "Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it." He swung himself up onto the roof. "Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it." "But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away." "He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready." The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him. "You villain!" said he, "where's your daughter?" The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight. "It is for me to ask you that," he shrieked, "you thieves! Spies and thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I'll serve you!" He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go. "He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter. "I have my revolver," said I. "Better close the front door," cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door. "My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!" Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck. With much labour we separated them and carried him, living but horribly mangled, into the house. We laid him upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to his wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain. We were all assembled round him when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room. "Mrs. Toller!" cried Miss Hunter. "Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted." "Ha!" said Holmes, looking keenly at her. "It is clear that Mrs. Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else." "Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know." "Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark." "I will soon make it clear to you," said she; "and I'd have done so before now if I could ha' got out from the cellar. If there's police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice's friend too. "She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn't, from the time that her father married again. She was slighted like and had no say in anything, but it never really became bad for her until after she met Mr. Fowler at a friend's house. As well as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was so quiet and patient, she was, that she never said a word about them but just left everything in Mr. Rucastle's hands. He knew he was safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use her money. When she wouldn't do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death's door. Then she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off; but that didn't make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be." "Ah," said Holmes, "I think that what you have been good enough to tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of imprisonment?" "Yes, sir." "And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler." "That was it, sir." "But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his." "Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said Mrs. Toller serenely. "And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your master had gone out." "You have it, sir, just as it happened." "I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller," said Holmes, "for you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our locus standi now is rather a questionable one." And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that he finds it difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, in Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the holder of a government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success. 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PKÔ^OPK%WI& cover.exePK6T, sonar.exePKÔ^O)metadataPK,lz4-2.5.2/fuzz/lz4.go000077500000000000000000000012441364760661600143120ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4 import ( "bytes" "github.com/pierrec/lz4" "io" ) // Fuzz function for the Reader and Writer. func Fuzz(data []byte) int { var ( r = bytes.NewReader(data) w = new(bytes.Buffer) pr, pw = io.Pipe() zr = lz4.NewReader(pr) zw = lz4.NewWriter(pw) ) // Compress. go func() { _, err := io.Copy(zw, r) if err != nil { panic(err) } err = zw.Close() if err != nil { panic(err) } err = pw.Close() if err != nil { panic(err) } }() // Decompress. _, err := io.Copy(w, zr) if err != nil { panic(err) } // Check that the data is valid. if !bytes.Equal(data, w.Bytes()) { panic("not equal") } return 1 } lz4-2.5.2/internal/000077500000000000000000000000001364760661600140645ustar00rootroot00000000000000lz4-2.5.2/internal/xxh32/000077500000000000000000000000001364760661600150405ustar00rootroot00000000000000lz4-2.5.2/internal/xxh32/xxh32zero.go000066400000000000000000000116101364760661600172420ustar00rootroot00000000000000// Package xxh32 implements the very fast XXH hashing algorithm (32 bits version). // (https://github.com/Cyan4973/XXH/) package xxh32 import ( "encoding/binary" ) const ( prime1 uint32 = 2654435761 prime2 uint32 = 2246822519 prime3 uint32 = 3266489917 prime4 uint32 = 668265263 prime5 uint32 = 374761393 primeMask = 0xFFFFFFFF prime1plus2 = uint32((uint64(prime1) + uint64(prime2)) & primeMask) // 606290984 prime1minus = uint32((-int64(prime1)) & primeMask) // 1640531535 ) // XXHZero represents an xxhash32 object with seed 0. type XXHZero struct { v1 uint32 v2 uint32 v3 uint32 v4 uint32 totalLen uint64 buf [16]byte bufused int } // Sum appends the current hash to b and returns the resulting slice. // It does not change the underlying hash state. func (xxh XXHZero) Sum(b []byte) []byte { h32 := xxh.Sum32() return append(b, byte(h32), byte(h32>>8), byte(h32>>16), byte(h32>>24)) } // Reset resets the Hash to its initial state. func (xxh *XXHZero) Reset() { xxh.v1 = prime1plus2 xxh.v2 = prime2 xxh.v3 = 0 xxh.v4 = prime1minus xxh.totalLen = 0 xxh.bufused = 0 } // Size returns the number of bytes returned by Sum(). func (xxh *XXHZero) Size() int { return 4 } // BlockSize gives the minimum number of bytes accepted by Write(). func (xxh *XXHZero) BlockSize() int { return 1 } // Write adds input bytes to the Hash. // It never returns an error. func (xxh *XXHZero) Write(input []byte) (int, error) { if xxh.totalLen == 0 { xxh.Reset() } n := len(input) m := xxh.bufused xxh.totalLen += uint64(n) r := len(xxh.buf) - m if n < r { copy(xxh.buf[m:], input) xxh.bufused += len(input) return n, nil } p := 0 // Causes compiler to work directly from registers instead of stack: v1, v2, v3, v4 := xxh.v1, xxh.v2, xxh.v3, xxh.v4 if m > 0 { // some data left from previous update copy(xxh.buf[xxh.bufused:], input[:r]) xxh.bufused += len(input) - r // fast rotl(13) buf := xxh.buf[:16] // BCE hint. v1 = rol13(v1+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(buf[:])*prime2) * prime1 v2 = rol13(v2+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(buf[4:])*prime2) * prime1 v3 = rol13(v3+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(buf[8:])*prime2) * prime1 v4 = rol13(v4+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(buf[12:])*prime2) * prime1 p = r xxh.bufused = 0 } for n := n - 16; p <= n; p += 16 { sub := input[p:][:16] //BCE hint for compiler v1 = rol13(v1+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(sub[:])*prime2) * prime1 v2 = rol13(v2+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(sub[4:])*prime2) * prime1 v3 = rol13(v3+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(sub[8:])*prime2) * prime1 v4 = rol13(v4+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(sub[12:])*prime2) * prime1 } xxh.v1, xxh.v2, xxh.v3, xxh.v4 = v1, v2, v3, v4 copy(xxh.buf[xxh.bufused:], input[p:]) xxh.bufused += len(input) - p return n, nil } // Sum32 returns the 32 bits Hash value. func (xxh *XXHZero) Sum32() uint32 { h32 := uint32(xxh.totalLen) if h32 >= 16 { h32 += rol1(xxh.v1) + rol7(xxh.v2) + rol12(xxh.v3) + rol18(xxh.v4) } else { h32 += prime5 } p := 0 n := xxh.bufused buf := xxh.buf for n := n - 4; p <= n; p += 4 { h32 += binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(buf[p:p+4]) * prime3 h32 = rol17(h32) * prime4 } for ; p < n; p++ { h32 += uint32(buf[p]) * prime5 h32 = rol11(h32) * prime1 } h32 ^= h32 >> 15 h32 *= prime2 h32 ^= h32 >> 13 h32 *= prime3 h32 ^= h32 >> 16 return h32 } // ChecksumZero returns the 32bits Hash value. func ChecksumZero(input []byte) uint32 { n := len(input) h32 := uint32(n) if n < 16 { h32 += prime5 } else { v1 := prime1plus2 v2 := prime2 v3 := uint32(0) v4 := prime1minus p := 0 for n := n - 16; p <= n; p += 16 { sub := input[p:][:16] //BCE hint for compiler v1 = rol13(v1+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(sub[:])*prime2) * prime1 v2 = rol13(v2+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(sub[4:])*prime2) * prime1 v3 = rol13(v3+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(sub[8:])*prime2) * prime1 v4 = rol13(v4+binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(sub[12:])*prime2) * prime1 } input = input[p:] n -= p h32 += rol1(v1) + rol7(v2) + rol12(v3) + rol18(v4) } p := 0 for n := n - 4; p <= n; p += 4 { h32 += binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(input[p:p+4]) * prime3 h32 = rol17(h32) * prime4 } for p < n { h32 += uint32(input[p]) * prime5 h32 = rol11(h32) * prime1 p++ } h32 ^= h32 >> 15 h32 *= prime2 h32 ^= h32 >> 13 h32 *= prime3 h32 ^= h32 >> 16 return h32 } // Uint32Zero hashes x with seed 0. func Uint32Zero(x uint32) uint32 { h := prime5 + 4 + x*prime3 h = rol17(h) * prime4 h ^= h >> 15 h *= prime2 h ^= h >> 13 h *= prime3 h ^= h >> 16 return h } func rol1(u uint32) uint32 { return u<<1 | u>>31 } func rol7(u uint32) uint32 { return u<<7 | u>>25 } func rol11(u uint32) uint32 { return u<<11 | u>>21 } func rol12(u uint32) uint32 { return u<<12 | u>>20 } func rol13(u uint32) uint32 { return u<<13 | u>>19 } func rol17(u uint32) uint32 { return u<<17 | u>>15 } func rol18(u uint32) uint32 { return u<<18 | u>>14 } lz4-2.5.2/internal/xxh32/xxh32zero_test.go000066400000000000000000000062051364760661600203050ustar00rootroot00000000000000package xxh32_test import ( "encoding/binary" "hash/crc32" "hash/fnv" "testing" qt "github.com/frankban/quicktest" "github.com/pierrec/lz4/internal/xxh32" ) type test struct { sum uint32 data string } var testdata = []test{ {0x02cc5d05, ""}, {0x550d7456, "a"}, {0x4999fc53, "ab"}, {0x32d153ff, "abc"}, {0xa3643705, "abcd"}, {0x9738f19b, "abcde"}, {0x8b7cd587, "abcdef"}, {0x9dd093b3, "abcdefg"}, {0x0bb3c6bb, "abcdefgh"}, {0xd03c13fd, "abcdefghi"}, {0x8b988cfe, "abcdefghij"}, {0x9d2d8b62, "abcdefghijklmnop"}, {0x42ae804d, "abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz0123456789"}, {0x62b4ed00, "Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam, quis nostrud exercitation ullamco laboris nisi ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat. Duis aute irure dolor in reprehenderit in voluptate velit esse cillum dolore eu fugiat nulla pariatur. Excepteur sint occaecat cupidatat non proident, sunt in culpa qui officia deserunt mollit anim id est laborum."}, } func TestZeroBlockSize(t *testing.T) { var xxh xxh32.XXHZero if s := xxh.BlockSize(); s <= 0 { t.Errorf("invalid BlockSize: %d", s) } } func TestZeroSize(t *testing.T) { var xxh xxh32.XXHZero if s := xxh.Size(); s != 4 { t.Errorf("invalid Size: got %d expected 4", s) } } func TestZeroData(t *testing.T) { c := qt.New(t) for _, td := range testdata { var xxh xxh32.XXHZero data := []byte(td.data) _, _ = xxh.Write(data) c.Assert(xxh.Sum32(), qt.Equals, td.sum) c.Assert(xxh32.ChecksumZero(data), qt.Equals, td.sum) } } func TestZeroSplitData(t *testing.T) { c := qt.New(t) for _, td := range testdata { var xxh xxh32.XXHZero data := []byte(td.data) l := len(data) / 2 _, _ = xxh.Write(data[0:l]) _, _ = xxh.Write(data[l:]) c.Assert(xxh.Sum32(), qt.Equals, td.sum) } } func TestZeroSum(t *testing.T) { c := qt.New(t) for _, td := range testdata { var xxh xxh32.XXHZero data := []byte(td.data) _, _ = xxh.Write(data) b := xxh.Sum(data) h := binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(b[len(data):]) c.Assert(h, qt.Equals, td.sum) } } func TestZeroChecksum(t *testing.T) { c := qt.New(t) for _, td := range testdata { data := []byte(td.data) h := xxh32.ChecksumZero(data) c.Assert(h, qt.Equals, td.sum) } } func TestZeroReset(t *testing.T) { c := qt.New(t) var xxh xxh32.XXHZero for _, td := range testdata { _, _ = xxh.Write([]byte(td.data)) h := xxh.Sum32() c.Assert(h, qt.Equals, td.sum) xxh.Reset() } } /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// // Benchmarks // var testdata1 = []byte(testdata[len(testdata)-1].data) func Benchmark_XXH32(b *testing.B) { var h xxh32.XXHZero for n := 0; n < b.N; n++ { _, _ = h.Write(testdata1) h.Sum32() h.Reset() } } func Benchmark_XXH32_Checksum(b *testing.B) { for n := 0; n < b.N; n++ { xxh32.ChecksumZero(testdata1) } } func Benchmark_CRC32(b *testing.B) { t := crc32.MakeTable(0) for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { crc32.Checksum(testdata1, t) } } func Benchmark_Fnv32(b *testing.B) { h := fnv.New32() for i := 0; i < b.N; i++ { _, _ = h.Write(testdata1) h.Sum32() h.Reset() } } lz4-2.5.2/lz4.go000066400000000000000000000075501364760661600133170ustar00rootroot00000000000000// Package lz4 implements reading and writing lz4 compressed data (a frame), // as specified in http://fastcompression.blogspot.fr/2013/04/lz4-streaming-format-final.html. // // Although the block level compression and decompression functions are exposed and are fully compatible // with the lz4 block format definition, they are low level and should not be used directly. // For a complete description of an lz4 compressed block, see: // http://fastcompression.blogspot.fr/2011/05/lz4-explained.html // // See https://github.com/Cyan4973/lz4 for the reference C implementation. // package lz4 import "math/bits" import "sync" const ( // Extension is the LZ4 frame file name extension Extension = ".lz4" // Version is the LZ4 frame format version Version = 1 frameMagic uint32 = 0x184D2204 frameSkipMagic uint32 = 0x184D2A50 // The following constants are used to setup the compression algorithm. minMatch = 4 // the minimum size of the match sequence size (4 bytes) winSizeLog = 16 // LZ4 64Kb window size limit winSize = 1 << winSizeLog winMask = winSize - 1 // 64Kb window of previous data for dependent blocks compressedBlockFlag = 1 << 31 compressedBlockMask = compressedBlockFlag - 1 // hashLog determines the size of the hash table used to quickly find a previous match position. // Its value influences the compression speed and memory usage, the lower the faster, // but at the expense of the compression ratio. // 16 seems to be the best compromise for fast compression. hashLog = 16 htSize = 1 << hashLog mfLimit = 10 + minMatch // The last match cannot start within the last 14 bytes. ) // map the block max size id with its value in bytes: 64Kb, 256Kb, 1Mb and 4Mb. const ( blockSize64K = 1 << (16 + 2*iota) blockSize256K blockSize1M blockSize4M ) var ( // Keep a pool of buffers for each valid block sizes. bsMapValue = [...]*sync.Pool{ newBufferPool(2 * blockSize64K), newBufferPool(2 * blockSize256K), newBufferPool(2 * blockSize1M), newBufferPool(2 * blockSize4M), } ) // newBufferPool returns a pool for buffers of the given size. func newBufferPool(size int) *sync.Pool { return &sync.Pool{ New: func() interface{} { return make([]byte, size) }, } } // getBuffer returns a buffer to its pool. func getBuffer(size int) []byte { idx := blockSizeValueToIndex(size) - 4 return bsMapValue[idx].Get().([]byte) } // putBuffer returns a buffer to its pool. func putBuffer(size int, buf []byte) { if cap(buf) > 0 { idx := blockSizeValueToIndex(size) - 4 bsMapValue[idx].Put(buf[:cap(buf)]) } } func blockSizeIndexToValue(i byte) int { return 1 << (16 + 2*uint(i)) } func isValidBlockSize(size int) bool { const blockSizeMask = blockSize64K | blockSize256K | blockSize1M | blockSize4M return size&blockSizeMask > 0 && bits.OnesCount(uint(size)) == 1 } func blockSizeValueToIndex(size int) byte { return 4 + byte(bits.TrailingZeros(uint(size)>>16)/2) } // Header describes the various flags that can be set on a Writer or obtained from a Reader. // The default values match those of the LZ4 frame format definition // (http://fastcompression.blogspot.com/2013/04/lz4-streaming-format-final.html). // // NB. in a Reader, in case of concatenated frames, the Header values may change between Read() calls. // It is the caller's responsibility to check them if necessary. type Header struct { BlockChecksum bool // Compressed blocks checksum flag. NoChecksum bool // Frame checksum flag. BlockMaxSize int // Size of the uncompressed data block (one of [64KB, 256KB, 1MB, 4MB]). Default=4MB. Size uint64 // Frame total size. It is _not_ computed by the Writer. CompressionLevel int // Compression level (higher is better, use 0 for fastest compression). done bool // Header processed flag (Read or Write and checked). } func (h *Header) Reset() { h.done = false } lz4-2.5.2/lz4_go1.10.go000066400000000000000000000010161364760661600142730ustar00rootroot00000000000000//+build go1.10 package lz4 import ( "fmt" "strings" ) func (h Header) String() string { var s strings.Builder s.WriteString(fmt.Sprintf("%T{", h)) if h.BlockChecksum { s.WriteString("BlockChecksum: true ") } if h.NoChecksum { s.WriteString("NoChecksum: true ") } if bs := h.BlockMaxSize; bs != 0 && bs != 4<<20 { s.WriteString(fmt.Sprintf("BlockMaxSize: %d ", bs)) } if l := h.CompressionLevel; l != 0 { s.WriteString(fmt.Sprintf("CompressionLevel: %d ", l)) } s.WriteByte('}') return s.String() } lz4-2.5.2/lz4_notgo1.10.go000066400000000000000000000010121364760661600150100ustar00rootroot00000000000000//+build !go1.10 package lz4 import ( "bytes" "fmt" ) func (h Header) String() string { var s bytes.Buffer s.WriteString(fmt.Sprintf("%T{", h)) if h.BlockChecksum { s.WriteString("BlockChecksum: true ") } if h.NoChecksum { s.WriteString("NoChecksum: true ") } if bs := h.BlockMaxSize; bs != 0 && bs != 4<<20 { s.WriteString(fmt.Sprintf("BlockMaxSize: %d ", bs)) } if l := h.CompressionLevel; l != 0 { s.WriteString(fmt.Sprintf("CompressionLevel: %d ", l)) } s.WriteByte('}') return s.String() } lz4-2.5.2/reader.go000066400000000000000000000203461364760661600140460ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4 import ( "encoding/binary" "fmt" "io" "io/ioutil" "github.com/pierrec/lz4/internal/xxh32" ) // Reader implements the LZ4 frame decoder. // The Header is set after the first call to Read(). // The Header may change between Read() calls in case of concatenated frames. type Reader struct { Header // Handler called when a block has been successfully read. // It provides the number of bytes read. OnBlockDone func(size int) buf [8]byte // Scrap buffer. pos int64 // Current position in src. src io.Reader // Source. zdata []byte // Compressed data. data []byte // Uncompressed data. idx int // Index of unread bytes into data. checksum xxh32.XXHZero // Frame hash. skip int64 // Bytes to skip before next read. dpos int64 // Position in dest } // NewReader returns a new LZ4 frame decoder. // No access to the underlying io.Reader is performed. func NewReader(src io.Reader) *Reader { r := &Reader{src: src} return r } // readHeader checks the frame magic number and parses the frame descriptoz. // Skippable frames are supported even as a first frame although the LZ4 // specifications recommends skippable frames not to be used as first frames. func (z *Reader) readHeader(first bool) error { defer z.checksum.Reset() buf := z.buf[:] for { magic, err := z.readUint32() if err != nil { z.pos += 4 if !first && err == io.ErrUnexpectedEOF { return io.EOF } return err } if magic == frameMagic { break } if magic>>8 != frameSkipMagic>>8 { return ErrInvalid } skipSize, err := z.readUint32() if err != nil { return err } z.pos += 4 m, err := io.CopyN(ioutil.Discard, z.src, int64(skipSize)) if err != nil { return err } z.pos += m } // Header. if _, err := io.ReadFull(z.src, buf[:2]); err != nil { return err } z.pos += 8 b := buf[0] if v := b >> 6; v != Version { return fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid version: got %d; expected %d", v, Version) } if b>>5&1 == 0 { return ErrBlockDependency } z.BlockChecksum = b>>4&1 > 0 frameSize := b>>3&1 > 0 z.NoChecksum = b>>2&1 == 0 bmsID := buf[1] >> 4 & 0x7 if bmsID < 4 || bmsID > 7 { return fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid block max size ID: %d", bmsID) } bSize := blockSizeIndexToValue(bmsID - 4) z.BlockMaxSize = bSize // Allocate the compressed/uncompressed buffers. // The compressed buffer cannot exceed the uncompressed one. if n := 2 * bSize; cap(z.zdata) < n { z.zdata = make([]byte, n, n) } if debugFlag { debug("header block max size id=%d size=%d", bmsID, bSize) } z.zdata = z.zdata[:bSize] z.data = z.zdata[:cap(z.zdata)][bSize:] z.idx = len(z.data) _, _ = z.checksum.Write(buf[0:2]) if frameSize { buf := buf[:8] if _, err := io.ReadFull(z.src, buf); err != nil { return err } z.Size = binary.LittleEndian.Uint64(buf) z.pos += 8 _, _ = z.checksum.Write(buf) } // Header checksum. if _, err := io.ReadFull(z.src, buf[:1]); err != nil { return err } z.pos++ if h := byte(z.checksum.Sum32() >> 8 & 0xFF); h != buf[0] { return fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid header checksum: got %x; expected %x", buf[0], h) } z.Header.done = true if debugFlag { debug("header read: %v", z.Header) } return nil } // Read decompresses data from the underlying source into the supplied buffer. // // Since there can be multiple streams concatenated, Header values may // change between calls to Read(). If that is the case, no data is actually read from // the underlying io.Reader, to allow for potential input buffer resizing. func (z *Reader) Read(buf []byte) (int, error) { if debugFlag { debug("Read buf len=%d", len(buf)) } if !z.Header.done { if err := z.readHeader(true); err != nil { return 0, err } if debugFlag { debug("header read OK compressed buffer %d / %d uncompressed buffer %d : %d index=%d", len(z.zdata), cap(z.zdata), len(z.data), cap(z.data), z.idx) } } if len(buf) == 0 { return 0, nil } if z.idx == len(z.data) { // No data ready for reading, process the next block. if debugFlag { debug("reading block from writer") } // Reset uncompressed buffer z.data = z.zdata[:cap(z.zdata)][len(z.zdata):] // Block length: 0 = end of frame, highest bit set: uncompressed. bLen, err := z.readUint32() if err != nil { return 0, err } z.pos += 4 if bLen == 0 { // End of frame reached. if !z.NoChecksum { // Validate the frame checksum. checksum, err := z.readUint32() if err != nil { return 0, err } if debugFlag { debug("frame checksum got=%x / want=%x", z.checksum.Sum32(), checksum) } z.pos += 4 if h := z.checksum.Sum32(); checksum != h { return 0, fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid frame checksum: got %x; expected %x", h, checksum) } } // Get ready for the next concatenated frame and keep the position. pos := z.pos z.Reset(z.src) z.pos = pos // Since multiple frames can be concatenated, check for more. return 0, z.readHeader(false) } if debugFlag { debug("raw block size %d", bLen) } if bLen&compressedBlockFlag > 0 { // Uncompressed block. bLen &= compressedBlockMask if debugFlag { debug("uncompressed block size %d", bLen) } if int(bLen) > cap(z.data) { return 0, fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid block size: %d", bLen) } z.data = z.data[:bLen] if _, err := io.ReadFull(z.src, z.data); err != nil { return 0, err } z.pos += int64(bLen) if z.OnBlockDone != nil { z.OnBlockDone(int(bLen)) } if z.BlockChecksum { checksum, err := z.readUint32() if err != nil { return 0, err } z.pos += 4 if h := xxh32.ChecksumZero(z.data); h != checksum { return 0, fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid block checksum: got %x; expected %x", h, checksum) } } } else { // Compressed block. if debugFlag { debug("compressed block size %d", bLen) } if int(bLen) > cap(z.data) { return 0, fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid block size: %d", bLen) } zdata := z.zdata[:bLen] if _, err := io.ReadFull(z.src, zdata); err != nil { return 0, err } z.pos += int64(bLen) if z.BlockChecksum { checksum, err := z.readUint32() if err != nil { return 0, err } z.pos += 4 if h := xxh32.ChecksumZero(zdata); h != checksum { return 0, fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid block checksum: got %x; expected %x", h, checksum) } } n, err := UncompressBlock(zdata, z.data) if err != nil { return 0, err } z.data = z.data[:n] if z.OnBlockDone != nil { z.OnBlockDone(n) } } if !z.NoChecksum { _, _ = z.checksum.Write(z.data) if debugFlag { debug("current frame checksum %x", z.checksum.Sum32()) } } z.idx = 0 } if z.skip > int64(len(z.data[z.idx:])) { z.skip -= int64(len(z.data[z.idx:])) z.dpos += int64(len(z.data[z.idx:])) z.idx = len(z.data) return 0, nil } z.idx += int(z.skip) z.dpos += z.skip z.skip = 0 n := copy(buf, z.data[z.idx:]) z.idx += n z.dpos += int64(n) if debugFlag { debug("copied %d bytes to input", n) } return n, nil } // Seek implements io.Seeker, but supports seeking forward from the current // position only. Any other seek will return an error. Allows skipping output // bytes which aren't needed, which in some scenarios is faster than reading // and discarding them. // Note this may cause future calls to Read() to read 0 bytes if all of the // data they would have returned is skipped. func (z *Reader) Seek(offset int64, whence int) (int64, error) { if offset < 0 || whence != io.SeekCurrent { return z.dpos + z.skip, ErrUnsupportedSeek } z.skip += offset return z.dpos + z.skip, nil } // Reset discards the Reader's state and makes it equivalent to the // result of its original state from NewReader, but reading from r instead. // This permits reusing a Reader rather than allocating a new one. func (z *Reader) Reset(r io.Reader) { z.Header = Header{} z.pos = 0 z.src = r z.zdata = z.zdata[:0] z.data = z.data[:0] z.idx = 0 z.checksum.Reset() } // readUint32 reads an uint32 into the supplied buffer. // The idea is to make use of the already allocated buffers avoiding additional allocations. func (z *Reader) readUint32() (uint32, error) { buf := z.buf[:4] _, err := io.ReadFull(z.src, buf) x := binary.LittleEndian.Uint32(buf) return x, err } lz4-2.5.2/reader_test.go000066400000000000000000000046641364760661600151120ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4_test import ( "bytes" "io" "io/ioutil" "os" "reflect" "strings" "testing" "github.com/pierrec/lz4" ) func TestReader(t *testing.T) { goldenFiles := []string{ "testdata/e.txt.lz4", "testdata/gettysburg.txt.lz4", "testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer.txt.lz4", "testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer_long.txt.lz4", "testdata/pg1661.txt.lz4", "testdata/pi.txt.lz4", "testdata/random.data.lz4", "testdata/repeat.txt.lz4", "testdata/pg_control.tar.lz4", } for _, fname := range goldenFiles { t.Run(fname, func(t *testing.T) { fname := fname t.Parallel() f, err := os.Open(fname) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } defer f.Close() rawfile := strings.TrimSuffix(fname, ".lz4") raw, err := ioutil.ReadFile(rawfile) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } var out bytes.Buffer zr := lz4.NewReader(f) n, err := io.Copy(&out, zr) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } if got, want := int(n), len(raw); got != want { t.Errorf("invalid sizes: got %d; want %d", got, want) } if got, want := out.Bytes(), raw; !reflect.DeepEqual(got, want) { t.Fatal("uncompressed data does not match original") } if len(raw) < 20 { return } f2, err := os.Open(fname) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } defer f2.Close() out.Reset() zr = lz4.NewReader(f2) _, err = io.CopyN(&out, zr, 10) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } if !reflect.DeepEqual(out.Bytes(), raw[:10]) { t.Fatal("partial read does not match original") } pos, err := zr.Seek(-1, io.SeekCurrent) if err == nil { t.Fatal("expected error from invalid seek") } if pos != 10 { t.Fatalf("unexpected position %d", pos) } pos, err = zr.Seek(1, io.SeekStart) if err == nil { t.Fatal("expected error from invalid seek") } if pos != 10 { t.Fatalf("unexpected position %d", pos) } pos, err = zr.Seek(-1, io.SeekEnd) if err == nil { t.Fatal("expected error from invalid seek") } if pos != 10 { t.Fatalf("unexpected position %d", pos) } pos, err = zr.Seek(int64(len(raw)-20), io.SeekCurrent) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } if pos != int64(len(raw)-10) { t.Fatalf("unexpected position %d", pos) } out.Reset() _, err = io.CopyN(&out, zr, 10) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } if !reflect.DeepEqual(out.Bytes(), raw[len(raw)-10:]) { t.Fatal("after seek, partial read does not match original") } }) } } lz4-2.5.2/testdata/000077500000000000000000000000001364760661600140615ustar00rootroot00000000000000lz4-2.5.2/testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer.txt000066400000000000000000013654131364760661600206200ustar00rootroot00000000000000Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. lz4-2.5.2/testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer.txt.lz4000066400000000000000000007646231364760661600213350ustar00rootroot00000000000000"Md`)Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updat2Jose Menendez.  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER / /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not$an individual--he is a combina characteristics of threem I knew, and therefore belongs to<"composite order of architecture. The odd superstzs touched upon A allalent among children and slavese West atbperiodis story--that isay, thirty or forty years ago. Although myis intended mainly fornentertainmentand girls, I hope it will not be shunn1menVwomen on account, for par\my plan has beenx!ry to pleasantly remind adults of what they onceathemselvesqof how &Afelt aalked,}what queerbprises=sometimes engag>4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876T%T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer.What's gone withboy, I wonder? You Rld lady pulled her spectacles dowlooked ovebam abou room; then she pAm up:cut und?. She seldom or never+THROUGH them so small a thing as a boywy<her state pair,pride ofRheartXwere built`"style," not service--she could have seen thrae of stove-lids just as well. Sheperplexednsa momen8Aaid,fiercely6still loud enyfurniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get holIyou I'll--" 3didsQnish,"byTAtimewVnding punching D bedre broomj!soGneeded breathqunctuat Q!esBresurrectebZ cat. "I 6adid seIA beaCboy!Awenthe open door 1tooLiRuthe tomato vineG "jimpson" weedswconstitute garden. No Tom. S AliftW voice at an angle calculfor distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-QThere/ a slight noise behinhe turned"into seize al2boye slack of his roundaand ar?Qhis fwA. "Q! I m5'a'closet. What you;doing in b?" "N. r! Look 9r hands. AndqSmouthb!ISa truckXI don't know, auntcDknow. It's jam!'s it is. FWAI've if you didn't lety jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me%rswitch.a hoverTair--Sldesperate-- "My 2you!Xrwhirled1nather skirts dof dan lad fled oinstant, scramblthe high board-fenceg disappearTit. Hisc Polly"sud9broke into a gentle laugh. "Hadcan't 5learn anyQ? Ain't he playecricks y3lik1for2o b1ing$rfor him6E? But old fools i biggest SCsdog new1, a0 saying is.bmy goodness, heAplay/m alike, two days3 2how qbody to 's coming? He 'p !just how long n torment me b Qmy da!up he knows if he can makeD!toAame offa minute or'1me a, it's down agaiI1hita lick. I afcmy dut/tthe Lord's truth,bb. Sparx2rodNpile the child, Good Book says. I'Cup ssuffering for us bothHe's fullG(e Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's!po- 2ing!go U lash him, somehow. Every8BI lefoff, my conscj does hur"so_e=!myheart most,ks. Well-a-wAman !rnI aoman iU 1few)droublea Scrip< DsaysbreckonT!sol!llc hookeAeven4*B[* Southwestern"afternoon"]s jbe obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, sish himIYy har= work SaturQ when !oyrhaving holida[ he hatesB more thanB elsGOT to do8 ofIrhim, orbu1ildhom dideAd a +Agoodm. He got back home barely in seaso}help Jim : rcoloredsaw next-day's wo"likindlingssupper--as+w!reime to tell( to Jim while did three-fourth1the . Tom's younger brother (or ra Shalf-Q) Sidalready Awith2theS(pick{qchips),ba quieJehad noDous,Vsome ways. W1Tom1eatv#is>stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aasked him questions/ Ewere1gui1nd 6deep--for sn ao trapMinto damaging revealments. Like many {simple-hearted souls,>as her pet vanitFabelievA was endow! 2a t@ 1arkbmysterious diplomac|she lovecontemplatex*transparent devices as marvel[low cunning. SaiVu: "Tom1midQ warmRchool, warn't it8 QYes'm+ Powerful1'D byou wa go in a-swimmNTom?" A bim a scare shv!Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He sear I's face, but it tolW!no. So he said: "No'm-y2not&mu I 1realoY Sshirta"Bu1tooJ though." it flatt her to reflects2Cdisc/ ' 2hirdry without any rknowingG41was 8!haher mindm tin spitZ! whind lay, I Zforestalle )next move: "Som`us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. SeeB8rwas vex:Uthinkoverlook(vq circum ial evid missed a 4. Tnew inspiration^ 1hav$undo yourrcollar =I sewed it, to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttjacket!"s#of\2facNAopen]s@a. His as securelyQ. "B"! 1Ago ' BwithI'd made sure you'#edQ A 8bee aI forgive ye^. you're a kina singed cat  --better':!. THIS time. as half sorry her sagacity had miscarried,3gla?Tom had stumbled\obedient conductconce. But SidneyId82you{Pith whiteNBad, 's blackBWhy,OA sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitdt. As J%ouIq5bSiddy, 2licabIn a safe plac/examinedBlarg2les which wer1ust\c 3lapdf boundTm--on^  D3theH& HSShe'danoticed if it hafor Sid. Conf6it!! s"ws& &I wish to geeminy s stick to one or t'other--Akeeprun of 'emse I bet%A lamX qearn hi4He was ne Model BoybvillaghkAhe m&1boyOS well1--a1athm. Withins, or even less, Cgott 5his 1. NQcause>sV1onePa heavyBbittj2him a man's oN_aTand p interest bd &emVAdrov/m1hisi,1the!--ras men's misf2 eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupAveltU awhistl just acquiredb negrohto practise it undisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-likb, a sovAliqu wrble, pW  iatongue the roof at short 5valAmids@the musicxreader probably remembers how !it.4r. Dilige attention soon gave him#kn{i< he strodeF Vtreet full of harmon1his gratitud Amucha n astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedu concerned,advantagFAwith!boO t$XComerRsumme4rlong. Inot dark,2 Presently Tom chechustle. A stranger!hi boy a shade larger'himself. A new-cAof any ageither sexXan impressive curiosioor little shabby\ of St. PetersburgA boy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-day<was simply astou B cap dainty 9 ,W-buttoned blue cloth 31#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons had shoes on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a brd it of ribbon0had a citified air|aat aten5 avitals B mor!stasplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi his own outfit seemed  to grow. N]boy spoke. If1mova--but Nsidewise, inrcle; they kept face toaand eyqeye allX b Final[ you!" "I'd oyou try i,  8$doN> can't, .-'Y?1CanACan'A +An\Qpausen! Aname"a'Tisn'c2 ofBbusiAmaybx r I 'low^ MAKE it my0Well why don't youhI\2 sa, I will3qMuch--mAMUCH!reb" "Oh^ 're mighty sm)!QDON'Tm# I ! one hand tiedn!meIr DO it? You SAY yaI WILLTyou fool "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME 2Oh,Qa hat+AR lump-%it. I darcck it offxqll takeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.O!dafQit up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--me much morBsass@nd bounce a rof~oOh, of COURSE+ ; then? What P eSAYINGTx for? W>@? XQfraidyxI AIN'TbYou arN+A3/Qeying"sihaR eachm t"we2uld  .Get away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X ba foot"as a bra' both shoving 2ainBglow"atg1Q hate" n"gex . After struggl ill both <"hoydflushecrelaxe Qtrainx watchful cautionj|acowardca pup.1ell%igozQthras'y4his bfinger.I'll make himQ, toosI care forj{R? I'v2Ba brbfVs big Be isawhat's,Ahrow'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$WBa li=DYOUR#soAit srew a line 7dus cbig toh<Ldo step(aF f''t stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl 1Now"sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;JCbettI)8 ouD yg(IDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents Atookbroad coppersApockQd hel  cderisionRtruck*t! g0. In an instantR boys1rol Aand 5ing;1gritogetherQcats;>f!ae spac"Rtuggetm A's hI 1nd es, punch3QscratT's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baIDTom %, seatedU!id# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. d went on. At last#go1 sm bed "'N1andR"1up z 8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3qff brus*DfromWthes, sobbing, snuffand occasioo &Aback1sha1his;threaten1hat1oul=Q"next 2ugh\#ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath2 as!as4was*3 sn?up a stone,2w i "hiqbetween7 ss-\1ail1ran  btelopeQchase6 traitor homsRthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemQ c utside, bu>only made2s ab windotdeclined. %Jand called#a bad, vicious, vulgar&and ordZ1him} went away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott pretty late#RnightAwhenAlimbutiously in a4 s, he unl an ambuscade,-dperson,Qaunt;g"aw]2tat nGQresolN 1 toT his %%2captivity ard labor became adamantinr$its firmness.A2I SATURDAY mora)2all4Qworld#.and fresh[Qbrimm-1ith5Pq.oeRevery:(;bif the`${music issued 2lip`Zcheer in Y~and a sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyonabove it,!grith vegetand it lay (4farZ, !to a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe-2alkAa bu| of whitewasha long-handledcsurvey  |all glak,B lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life Q holl/nd existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Bhe d 2his9Qpassea sopmost plank; rep the operB; di8gain; comp/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxuraged. Jim 3Tskipp.!atva tin paiTsinging Buffalo G#BrQwater  (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work in@Seyes,Dq now itJnot strik 1 so\%1ompQpump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. A. "alAwas only a hundWd fif!!f,43got)  under an hour. "ev an somesgenerallyto go after him. U1Say,=Bfetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :w, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tol|IAn' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'Ayou 6;Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHEx ever k.I9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'DeedBwoulfASHE!:Tlicks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$1crygyou a marvel" aKQ alle8Jim bega.waver. "%!D2 bully taQMy! Da3gayb, I teQ! But5I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shQmy so:"Ji- human--this attrac  "ooH251put( 2il,a"ntZebsorbing!3estu/ 4andS being unwR; VAs fl3dowI k!p?JgQrear,jAwas "waCvigo.was reti3rRfielda slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had !ne\%2#daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #trk !onL Asort 2delXBd)Bb they J$a Sof fu m2!to|)9Rvery r rit burn like fire%2hiscly wealt-  (bit--bitoys, marble trash; ;8to buy an exchange of WORK, maybnot half7s,*an hour of purk4dom.#retraitened meansB "s rgave up 1dea r=1oys4AdarkN hopeless7-d burst Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-sp# boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdS's ga" the hop-skip-and-jump--proojris hear7lis anticipa2AhighM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* a steamboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboard rounded to ponder#an-ious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (self to be drawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck 2the~sQexecuAthemR1Atop tsir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"ghand stiffen8AidesZaet herW mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &Come ahead W0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--out d"- #t'Q#'t q Take at(hRstumpMQthe bof it! StSy*age, now--lg go! D`GesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (She gauge-cocks)op-. R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artist(!n vi\ gentle sweecthe result, as $R rang4)alongsidv',Uwater #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,Mmwork, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druaWORK--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:dboy a big%2cal!?"yIATHATy +SresumC \Aansw1carG 3ly:% S it iU q. All I,$it suits Tom SawyerP dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1movALike(yIYsee why I oughtn'Gl-. Does a$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}Rhat pz-Q in aSlight!to AnibbAppleR swep daintilyUxorth--steI"ba<1notK effect--addeAhere|there--critici=5 again--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!!nd$ bested, absorbed. P 5 heTom, let MEOa littl _o consent"alnhis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -R if if 2theC& I^3and. Yes, she's 2; iNcbe dontcareful; v"onmRthous aybe two can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? --lemme R5try. Only--I'd let YOUQas meJfWBen, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o 6she}1im;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEq tackleb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySPFN2?GRfeardW3ALL areluct|ig @qalacritW. AndR3lat )erAb workeZ"sw>1in !un( #ed< 1 saa barrel i- shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1outd!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;">out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2swas lit )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to lrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ6ass doorknob, a dog-Asbno dog]3hana knife, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hada nice, good, idlM#th--plenty of0 { 2encQthree coa !on%#If2n't9>9ut ) have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidaF3tnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,"ouQing it--namely, ."inDKaa man boy covet a} s !isG necessary;^ difficul" vattain.U3! and wise philosopche wri 1boo:A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And B helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers or perfor&"ad-mill is ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles Qdaily0q(summer, becaus@privilege costs themable moneym iOy"IKc wages#e XAturnhn3txsresign.oy mused atsubstantialg!chRtakenC X `whheadquarters to report(sI TOM , ]q l"sirby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he rnoddingh" "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onAgray for safety.%" urse Tomdeserted #ag&` !ndqa0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I go=BplayKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,1liegBe--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1noteQately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i1canS whenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he !liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou getd3som in a week, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov Rcture 3theBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur Qurisho"hooked" bughnutn !kieqand saw^just start%pHstairwayll OUroomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$ @!irgXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx ! c4acollec+ surprised faculties#sa9"1cueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} !fe?bnd gon9BrSa gat#eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,into a muddy allaled byBback%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capdand puQhasteR the public square. 1, wtwo "military"/1nie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G% of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<qthe oth#@hese two great commay ! dYt condesc,"fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'd, the terms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatc=1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white 2 frd embroi  )JQettes3 fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U3his6 !efoJa memory  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKssion as adogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTessed b ago; $ <bappiesOroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MCthe girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO orsteps as3n m]2war2doo?%Q heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his=! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): boy ranh  Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes= ]Cdown d as ifBsome %of!a goingnHdirection. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes) 2e haBaway the treasu#B rouq cornerb only minute--(v Cbutt,$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomE1ypercriticaZByway"re # 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite$, though Tom comfor$wa 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[2oorfull of visions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He took aa scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY(qe leastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"heC-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_#'sMs6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA"soE  !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimfuQexultR1 Thold Qcld lad($#ba DstooFCthe wreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2At gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5herQgain,W RUmf! 4youbget a lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious I wasn't az enough." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a Zr7T cipline forbadhA. Soh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W 1exa chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingR fell upon"no dthen, _aa film Bears~f recognition!pilasick u6lBeath=bim besee}5 onforgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A b$ZK Qiver,  Qcurlsw9<8Dsore .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r(ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9_Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a =0 suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithASathosse dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqAblurP"at1ichEAflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark Qut atKDdoor|Bsongunshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafqthe rivGvT"imfQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*6stream, wis4L Rhile,_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all bhollowU(1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` t1 i m\ set it up in new0!vaosTswore ithbare. At last he rosei?NJAdepa4l A. A half-past nine or ten o'cT/"he93alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"r-story Q. Wascbre? He+,j*s stealthyf/ !thn3 he1und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Gback hands clasphis breah41his 5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelterqomeless-C, no "ly@Qto wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy cal[qa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!astrangvhero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingleam"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal a"Q, vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun 5!2Qanqui@"ld]DbeamWF'eaceful village~a benediY Breakfas,M had family worship: it bega# ab built6up of solid .Scriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality SNBsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.Q gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 33bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. LRirs i kingdom ofnEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Why3youfi!e,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2yourthick-h (, I'm not tea[1youpyC1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so nice. There, that's0boy." "All{1! Ws;"TMary,K C+'4Neryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressur;-curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplishe% 1hin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the cut anything, buwas a "sure-t"" 5t  inconceivable grandeur_!Bat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterDwill] erhaps. Tom"ri' scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setMne$Rbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~Senterqkitchen F ?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&Q remo,5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflVncert;sin was refillAthis3xm&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory2DJBrt a%2chiohis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5qunirrigyBsoil]aspread7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin of color)Aaturh7neatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQBplasNI3airAI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%13use 1#on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MGB oveshoulders,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1nowHed exceedWAimprcand un2abl"was fully as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU b forgeCshoe"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/#taHis9Bthe 9rthem ouH2losStempem~z bm$o do everything + "do2Mar&&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere foÊit. Sabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWmall, plain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticketYes." "What'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W property :!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz0qarious  s ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceeE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man, interferedGny-61and!pura boy's !inM +-;"Dwas }W# i}2ook the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,8r\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ong. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#woA of 5*2eciY. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (forty centsose easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industbapplic$toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet MaryL2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Ctraihis mental facultiesyCtoo (hRand h~+Abett {D idil0dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it) 1hisfcome out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{ecTom's qstomachn areallyB:1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa day lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI In due ca Astoow 2in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-bookh)!ndcforefi"O(between its leave Fd attentioG  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheez@&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.01. T  V slimEirty-five a sandy goate Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-"wh*per edge almostD:rhis ear-asharp %Ibs curvqa(orners of his f--a fencRcompe l1ght2outh,a turning "e Bbody a side viewqQrequiW hp1! o2ing cravat which?as broad}sE bank-note,!ri Bendspboot toe G8Qly up@ athe farche day sleigh-runners--an effect"l hiously producedTe young men by s'T{Does against a wall hours together. Mr. WaltE as very earnesBmienSsince1honFt1 yhBplac% 2rev'^so separaJ2hemU +Aly m4 "s,% /_Amsel BvoicI  a peculiar inton (wholly absweek-days. He beganSthis : "Now, , I want you` Qto sivjust as3andj1 as1c\ d mV yourBz.!wo!rea_Sit. T etay good2boygirls sh# do. I see one+girl who is1ingtindow--I am av1she1ks !ouGre somewpbsperhaps#one trees making ax irds. [Applausive t$.]"to"ryou howit makes me feee"any bright,/mfaces assembllike this, lea Iu!be|!."[rso fortETso on Fnot ?!toK5Qt1 or9!waa2doeR3vard#so=" familiar to us all. The lpQ thirawas ma2+aresump` of fights andZ& among certai.a;#"s,%y fidgetingGAwhisN"gsextended far4wide, was1eve \ses of i5d0incorruptible rocks"Si!Mary. But now1y sGceasl Qubsid(ofY' EDncluz"<\freceivZ burst of<t gratitude. APP)-7 DS san even1mor less rare-- Rntranvisitors: lawyer Thatcher, ac i`Eafeebleoaged man;,ne, portly, middle-aged gentlem+iron-gray hair^a dignifie@N\doubtless`q's wife.Cas la.*EEchaf1rep$s; conscience-smbq, too--]$uld not meet Amy Law .'s eye, & not brook her loving gaze. Buty1M#isftnew-com1oulall ablazebliss in vCnextBQ"show2ff"=+ might --cuffingfR, pulu0'0$akG2s aq=u+$every art aseemedufascinate a9w:&2r aqe. His k?uBalloV*y 1 hu!in angel's garden--and Qrecor5!wat]out, underk1wavW happU2AweepRO9MaO !gi"stdof hon as soon as Mr. '<1fin?']4int=   D man o be a prodigiousqage--no}A a o!a  county judge--alh  baugust !io6s1hadn`$oerT!devqhat kin;i Tde of"ey'1wan] N-#oa]Shalf "heu rom Constantinople,j(miles away--so heAtrav ,1see g"se1Aeyes3dVcourt-house-- 1saihave a tin roofR awe +iBreflMbs inspbas attL!imE 2ivex!cethe rankstaring eyesw great Judge)# cir ownO.Uaimmedi"n'u, to be11eatand be envbRchool) -been musicY$1 ~: "Look$m, Jim! He's a f<ure. Say--look! h"rto shakRs1him6RIS shH ! By jings,d.Ayou ;1youJeff?" 1fel,Asortofficial bustlactivities, gitorders,21ingments, dischar)4dirk2her!+1re,y r81a targetc2ian!ed-D9t  krhis armE"1 of$ m`ca dealQ splu1uss insect authon@Bs in@84adys4 --Dsweetly ov[s|l!boxed, lifting # wW f~s at ba ApattBood ones Sln /ensmall scoldof qdisplayD&E1ineVnx!tobipline<S"s,th sexes, found bus\Aup aB$y,I' kB6ffrequently had ',"reSa1s (Qmuch seeiK7").- Qittle 5 in$wa 3Xboys wuch diligVDthe (E1+paper wads9Qscuff.above it  ;Rman s beamed a majestic jud smile upon@,dwarmed h Ae su uhis own."!he& Rtoo. e1qonly on]!ngR\Jmakeh ecstasy completwas a ch $to-gZxhibit a y. SeveraNTa fewe!b2n b !ar #4tarYinquiringq3hav! t worlds{2German la8##ga:A a srmind. AndG#is ,r&2dea- Sawyer  Mnine6redY #onQ dema @a thunderboltaa clear sky2 waQexpec"ic^ %Qsourc ten years. BubsRno geEBit--"erAcertf check#d-#ird-.therefore elevated toK_3the@ B#heNSelectW1new| a annouGheadquarterp |#stFbsurpriB-the decad=bso pro>Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upBenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pisC, asUrthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ- zX not well bea]l  ;0s.preposterou8 cp !hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou3glaH0sH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. S1nde+ss grain %"d;zZa dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 rdly comequaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom--=aThomas'"Ah~'s it. I7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6 you?" "TellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ay1boy\ t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is aEmany--very,(b many.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day'#okR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb K Dest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us dr%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be%$th3church begaBring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C and occupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ. The crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C hadTG vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circn!!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlS25 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesides2hada"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidental$)noa!hef1ed ytas snobcongregapHefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea[ !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1rea a relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilsts+OIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO is mortal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3charder4t~1 riu'ittprayed. -, N#wabwent iIhtails: it pleadea rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M!yeusee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorVcseed sm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of dP5thev8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a62 --F6notgc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck!1expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iyQnot dY4}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea %"symҵBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto aso smallSo be !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dog<1idllong, sad atM vt, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"Bfor LMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/]u he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>or revenge. So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my!R toe'+ified!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 Churt=!re~ish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don'tyou? So all this row wGE1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8theA fasRTom's:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn' o spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat dreaded by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zPxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared( B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off of full-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody forbadfd to fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot e:+ # lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife preca1hadgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youI it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHbNo! Is 3so?JS some* Gb3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%ee WOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j By an3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk2tryx * c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-meal shorts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3 on one piec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aY+"rorqdark of6mooQ burn/ s}3 2ean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFv+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'Down;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i " T 3y Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ u7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<01'emGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'Brock9i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layisQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOLqNothingaS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately be94#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thfore. When Tomy'ittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=P!ofY1who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unkn Sd(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verQroom, rTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2  -3" TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~Uain't" Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "adown,"3S succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Z%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr !. #(t&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e f!barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$2disD93ing[#Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Cdvalleya a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hamme,of a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at bes! +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 1sheF then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{%2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsAfore:Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer='(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterl.jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'ERillag1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $re1Tom5| {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on/1com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldlsvery monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoistdg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `TdriftQbehinb cloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.Q tookQa large spring-knifkc;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'!and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; !ed1gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Elife:) fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halzAf bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4ir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,s8y burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you#"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xk1. W2youAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon'", KGr fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApresQCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith?t, yield !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like S-fr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o`S leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp #up܎:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCraa lateq ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" bt#arq#pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe ground. TO*BSome!1tole't if 8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedrAen hP  JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!vDboys&tXappy Tturn  E$th\)wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'*{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemYqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goA"do iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:2bef=eV<n2donC ."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay !oc& $%.6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnEuRed-HanVj VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Bdown4 it, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccosVad al- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuck after oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,r-browedwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffKbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuQyway,%by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#MB." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirs at present. @Wlz4-2.5.2/testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer_long.txt000066400000000000000000202145711364760661600216360ustar00rootroot00000000000000Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updated by Jose Menendez. THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER BY MARK TWAIN (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an individual--he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture. The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and slaves in the West at the period of this story--that is to say, thirty or forty years ago. Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account, for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked, and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in. THE AUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876. T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer. "TOM!" No answer. "What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!" No answer. The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service--she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll--" She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat. "I never did see the beat of that boy!" She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-u TOM!" There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight. "There! I might 'a' thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?" "Nothing." "Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?" "I don't know, aunt." "Well, I know. It's jam--that's what it is. Forty times I've said if you didn't let that jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me that switch." The switch hovered in the air--the peril was desperate-- "My! Look behind you, aunt!" The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and disappeared over it. His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle laugh. "Hang the boy, can't I never learn anything? Ain't he played me tricks enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old fools is the biggest fools there is. Can't learn an old dog new tricks, as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days, and how is a body to know what's coming? He 'pears to know just how long he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it's all down again and I can't hit him a lick. I ain't doing my duty by that boy, and that's the Lord's truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as the Good Book says. I'm a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I know. He's full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's boy, poor thing, and I ain't got the heart to lash him, somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says, and I reckon it's so. He'll play hookey this evening, * and [* Southwestern for "afternoon"] I'll just be obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, to punish him. It's mighty hard to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he hates work more than he hates anything else, and I've GOT to do some of my duty by him, or I'll be the ruination of the child." Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day's wood and split the kindlings before supper--at least he was there in time to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work. Tom's younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy, and had no adventurous, troublesome ways. While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and very deep--for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low cunning. Said she: "Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Powerful warm, warn't it?" "Yes'm." "Didn't you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?" A bit of a scare shot through Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He searched Aunt Polly's face, but it told him nothing. So he said: "No'm--well, not very much." The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom's shirt, and said: "But you ain't too warm now, though." And it flattered her to reflect that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move: "Some of us pumped on our heads--mine's damp yet. See?" Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new inspiration: "Tom, you didn't have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!" The trouble vanished out of Tom's face. He opened his jacket. His shirt collar was securely sewed. "Bother! Well, go 'long with you. I'd made sure you'd played hookey and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you're a kind of a singed cat, as the saying is--better'n you look. THIS time." She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom had stumbled into obedient conduct for once. But Sidney said: "Well, now, if I didn't think you sewed his collar with white thread, but it's black." "Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!" But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said: "Siddy, I'll lick you for that." In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them--one needle carried white thread and the other black. He said: "She'd never noticed if it hadn't been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to geeminy she'd stick to one or t'other--I can't keep the run of 'em. But I bet you I'll lam Sid for that. I'll learn him!" He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well though--and loathed him. Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a man's are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore them down and drove them out of his mind for the time--just as men's misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble, produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short intervals in the midst of the music--the reader probably remembers how to do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer feels who has discovered a new planet--no doubt, as far as strong, deep, unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the astronomer. The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom checked his whistle. A stranger was before him--a boy a shade larger than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy was well dressed, too--well dressed on a week-day. This was simply astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes on--and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom's vitals. The more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved--but only sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the time. Finally Tom said: "I can lick you!" "I'd like to see you try it." "Well, I can do it." "No you can't, either." "Yes I can." "No you can't." "I can." "You can't." "Can!" "Can't!" An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said: "What's your name?" "'Tisn't any of your business, maybe." "Well I 'low I'll MAKE it my business." "Well why don't you?" "If you say much, I will." "Much--much--MUCH. There now." "Oh, you think you're mighty smart, DON'T you? I could lick you with one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to." "Well why don't you DO it? You SAY you can do it." "Well I WILL, if you fool with me." "Oh yes--I've seen whole families in the same fix." "Smarty! You think you're SOME, now, DON'T you? Oh, what a hat!" "You can lump that hat if you don't like it. I dare you to knock it off--and anybody that'll take a dare will suck eggs." "You're a liar!" "You're another." "You're a fighting liar and dasn't take it up." "Aw--take a walk!" "Say--if you give me much more of your sass I'll take and bounce a rock off'n your head." "Oh, of COURSE you will." "Well I WILL." "Well why don't you DO it then? What do you keep SAYING you will for? Why don't you DO it? It's because you're afraid." "I AIN'T afraid." "You are." "I ain't." "You are." Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said: "Get away from here!" "Go away yourself!" "I won't." "I won't either." So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said: "You're a coward and a pup. I'll tell my big brother on you, and he can thrash you with his little finger, and I'll make him do it, too." "What do I care for your big brother? I've got a brother that's bigger than he is--and what's more, he can throw him over that fence, too." [Both brothers were imaginary.] "That's a lie." "YOUR saying so don't make it so." Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said: "I dare you to step over that, and I'll lick you till you can't stand up. Anybody that'll take a dare will steal sheep." The new boy stepped over promptly, and said: "Now you said you'd do it, now let's see you do it." "Don't you crowd me now; you better look out." "Well, you SAID you'd do it--why don't you do it?" "By jingo! for two cents I WILL do it." The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other's hair and clothes, punched and scratched each other's nose, and covered themselves with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him with his fists. "Holler 'nuff!" said he. The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying--mainly from rage. "Holler 'nuff!"--and the pounding went on. At last the stranger got out a smothered "'Nuff!" and Tom let him up and said: "Now that'll learn you. Better look out who you're fooling with next time." The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing, snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and threatening what he would do to Tom the "next time he caught him out." To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the window and declined. At last the enemy's mother appeared, and called Tom a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but he said he "'lowed" to "lay" for that boy. He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting. Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour--and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said: "Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some." Jim shook his head and said: "Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business--she 'lowed SHE'D 'tend to de whitewashin'." "Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket--I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know." "Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would." "SHE! She never licks anybody--whacks 'em over the head with her thimble--and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt--anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!" Jim began to waver. "White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw." "My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis--" "And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe." Jim was only human--this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work--the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it--bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration. He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently--the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump--proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to starboard and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance--for he was personating the Big Missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them: "Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk. "Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides. "Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles--for it was representing a forty-foot wheel. "Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-lingling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles. "Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! LIVELY now! Come--out with your spring-line--what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now--let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling! SH'T! S'H'T! SH'T!" (trying the gauge-cocks). Tom went on whitewashing--paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-YI! YOU'RE up a stump, ain't you!" No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said: "Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?" Tom wheeled suddenly and said: "Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing." "Say--I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther WORK--wouldn't you? Course you would!" Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said: "What do you call work?" "Why, ain't THAT work?" Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly: "Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer." "Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you LIKE it?" The brush continued to move. "Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?" That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth--stepped back to note the effect--added a touch here and there--criticised the effect again--Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said: "Say, Tom, let ME whitewash a little." Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind: "No--no--I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence--right here on the street, you know --but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and SHE wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done." "No--is that so? Oh come, now--lemme just try. Only just a little--I'd let YOU, if you was me, Tom." "Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly--well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it--" "Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say--I'll give you the core of my apple." "Well, here--No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard--" "I'll give you ALL of it!" Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with--and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar--but no dog--the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while--plenty of company --and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village. Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it--namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is OBLIGED to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign. The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report. CHAPTER III TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting --for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?" "What, a'ready? How much have you done?" "It's all done, aunt." "Tom, don't lie to me--I can't bear it." "I ain't, aunt; it IS all done." Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said: "Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you." She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut. Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble. Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person--that being better suited to the still smaller fry--but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone. As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden--a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done. He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared. The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute--only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart--or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway. He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions. All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said: "Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it." "Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you." Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl--a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out: "Hold on, now, what 'er you belting ME for?--Sid broke it!" Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said: "Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough." Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign--a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other. He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness. About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die--out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus SHE would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down? The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains! The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom. Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye. Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai. Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog: "Blessed are the--a--a--" "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; blessed are the poor--a--a--" "In spirit--" "In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they--they--" "THEIRS--" "For THEIRS. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they--they--" "Sh--" "For they--a--" "S, H, A--" "For they S, H--Oh, I don't know what it is!" "SHALL!" "Oh, SHALL! for they shall--for they shall--a--a--shall mourn--a--a-- blessed are they that shall--they that--a--they that shall mourn, for they shall--a--shall WHAT? Why don't you tell me, Mary?--what do you want to be so mean for?" "Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it--and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy." "All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is." "Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice." "You bet you that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again." And he did "tackle it again"--and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that--though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school. Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said: "Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you." Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years--they were simply called his "other clothes"--and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively: "Please, Tom--that's a good boy." So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school--a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it. Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too--for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade: "Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?" "Yes." "What'll you take for her?" "What'll you give?" "Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook." "Less see 'em." Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern--restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward--in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way--it was the patient work of two years--and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth--a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it. In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert --though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth--a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners--an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion: "Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There --that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window--I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere--perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all. The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude. A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare--the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too--he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might --cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces--in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy--the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden--and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now. The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage--no less a one than the county judge--altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon--and they wondered what kind of material he was made of--and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away--so he had travelled, and seen the world--these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house--which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings: "Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say--look! he's a going to shake hands with him--he IS shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?" Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off"--running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" --bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline--and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur--for he was "showing off," too. There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough --he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind. And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it--here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face. Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy--but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass. The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises--a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt. Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face--but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went--came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds--and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought). Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked--partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out: "Tom." "Oh, no, not Tom--it is--" "Thomas." "Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?" "Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners." "Thomas Sawyer--sir." "That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many--very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood--it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn--it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible--a splendid elegant Bible--to keep and have it all for my own, always--it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas--and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses--no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned--no, I know you wouldn't--for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?" Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question--why DID the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say: "Answer the gentleman, Thomas--don't be afraid." Tom still hung fire. "Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were--" "DAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene. CHAPTER V ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her--Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife--for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body--for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays--accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs. The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' BLOODY seas? He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, TOO beautiful for this mortal earth." After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom--a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it. And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen. There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it--if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously --for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it--and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare--he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go. The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod --and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion. Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws--a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance. By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced. Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off. CHAPTER VI MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so--because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious. Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit. But Sid slept on unconscious. Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe. No result from Sid. Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans. Sid snored on. Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said: "Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously. Tom moaned out: "Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me." "Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie." "No--never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody." "But I must! DON'T groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?" "Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me." "Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, DON'T! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?" "I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone--" "Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom--oh, don't. Maybe--" "I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her--" But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone. Sid flew down-stairs and said: "Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!" "Dying!" "Yes'm. Don't wait--come quick!" "Rubbage! I don't believe it!" But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out: "You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?" "Oh, auntie, I'm--" "What's the matter with you--what is the matter with you, child?" "Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!" The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said: "Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this." The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said: "Aunt Polly, it SEEMED mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all." "Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?" "One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful." "There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well--your tooth IS loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen." Tom said: "Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school." "Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now. But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero. Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad--and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up. Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg. Tom hailed the romantic outcast: "Hello, Huckleberry!" "Hello yourself, and see how you like it." "What's that you got?" "Dead cat." "Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him?" "Bought him off'n a boy." "What did you give?" "I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house." "Where'd you get the blue ticket?" "Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick." "Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck?" "Good for? Cure warts with." "No! Is that so? I know something that's better." "I bet you don't. What is it?" "Why, spunk-water." "Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water." "You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?" "No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did." "Who told you so!" "Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!" "Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck." "Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was." "In the daytime?" "Certainly." "With his face to the stump?" "Yes. Least I reckon so." "Did he say anything?" "I don't reckon he did. I don't know." "Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say: 'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,' and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted." "Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done." "No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean." "Yes, bean's good. I've done that." "Have you? What's your way?" "You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes." "Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats?" "Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch ANY wart." "Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?" "No, but old Mother Hopkins told me." "Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch." "Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm." "Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?" "Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards." "Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?" "To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night." "But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?" "Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?--and THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon." "I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?" "Of course--if you ain't afeard." "Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?" "Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't you tell." "I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that?" "Nothing but a tick." "Where'd you get him?" "Out in the woods." "What'll you take for him?" "I don't know. I don't want to sell him." "All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway." "Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me." "Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to." "Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year." "Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him." "Less see it." Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him. "Thomas Sawyer!" Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!" "Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?" Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said: "I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN!" The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said: "You--you did what?" "Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." There was no mistaking the words. "Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket." The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed: "Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you." The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book. By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it--I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered: "Let me see it." Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered: "It's nice--make a man." The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered: "It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along." Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said: "It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw." "It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you." "Oh, will you? When?" "At noon. Do you go home to dinner?" "I'll stay if you will." "Good--that's a whack. What's your name?" "Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer." "That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?" "Yes." Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said: "Oh, it ain't anything." "Yes it is." "No it ain't. You don't want to see." "Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me." "You'll tell." "No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't." "You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?" "No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me." "Oh, YOU don't want to see!" "Now that you treat me so, I WILL see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I LOVE YOU." "Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless. Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant. As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. CHAPTER VII THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. "Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over." "All right, go ahead; start him up." The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he: "Tom, you let him alone." "I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe." "No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone." "Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much." "Let him alone, I tell you." "I won't!" "You shall--he's on my side of the line." "Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?" "I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him." "Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!" A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it. When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear: "Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way." So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said: "Do you love rats?" "No! I hate them!" "Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string." "No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum." "Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now." "Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me." That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment. "Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom. "Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good." "I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up." "Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up." "Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?" "What's that?" "Why, engaged to be married." "No." "Would you like to?" "I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?" "Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it." "Kiss? What do you kiss for?" "Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that." "Everybody?" "Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?" "Ye--yes." "What was it?" "I sha'n't tell you." "Shall I tell YOU?" "Ye--yes--but some other time." "No, now." "No, not now--to-morrow." "Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy." Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added: "Now you whisper it to me--just the same." She resisted, for a while, and then said: "You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you?" "No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky." He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I--love--you!" Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded: "Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands. By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said: "Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?" "No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either." "Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged." "It's so nice. I never heard of it before." "Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--" The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused. "Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!" The child began to cry. Tom said: "Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more." "Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do." Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly: "Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you." No reply--but sobs. "Becky"--pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?" More sobs. Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said: "Please, Becky, won't you take it?" She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called: "Tom! Come back, Tom!" She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. CHAPTER VIII TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: "What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: "Well, that beats anything!" Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called-- "Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright. "He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: "Brother, go find your brother!" He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other. Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: "Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called: "Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" "Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" "Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked "by the book," from memory. "Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" "I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." "Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: "Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted: "Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" "I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it." "Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back." There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell. "Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." "Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." "Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." "Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever. CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard. It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave. Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper: "Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" Huckleberry whispered: "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" "I bet it is." There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered: "Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" "O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." Tom, after a pause: "I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss." "A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom." This was a damper, and conversation died again. Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: "Sh!" "What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. "Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" "I--" "There! Now you hear it." "Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" "I dono. Think they'll see us?" "Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come." "Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all." "I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." "Listen!" The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. "Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" "It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder: "It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?" "I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I--'" "Sh!" "What is it, Huck?" "They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice." "No--'tain't so, is it?" "I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" "All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe." "That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?" The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. "Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him. "Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment." They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said: "Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays." "That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. "Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you." "Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: "Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark. Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: "THAT score is settled--damn you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three --four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. "Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. "It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. "What did you do it for?" "I! I never done it!" "Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him so young and promising." "Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now." "Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. "No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." "Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry. "Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you." Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: "If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself --chicken-heart!" Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. CHAPTER X THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet. "If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer." Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: "Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" "If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." "Do you though?" "Why, I KNOW it, Tom." Tom thought a while, then he said: "Who'll tell? We?" "What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here." "That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." "If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough." Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: "Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" "What's the reason he don't know it?" "Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" "By hokey, that's so, Tom!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" "No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." After another reflective silence, Tom said: "Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" "Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep mum." "I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we--" "Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood." Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot." Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: "Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it." "What's verdigrease?" "It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once --you'll see." So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away. A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. "Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling --ALWAYS?" "Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" "Yes, I reckon that's so." They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. "Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. "I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" "No, YOU, Tom!" "I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" "Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" "Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison." * [* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."] "Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog." The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. "Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said: "Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" "Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" "Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." "Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." "Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried --but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. "YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." Tom choked off and whispered: "Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. "Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" "Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?" The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. "Sh! What's that?" he whispered. "Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." "That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" "I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more." The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. "Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" "I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward. "Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. "Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet." "Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" "Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." "All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck." Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence. He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! This final feather broke the camel's back. CHAPTER XI CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not. A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night. All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them. "Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here." Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" "Who? Who?" from twenty voices. "Muff Potter!" "Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears. "I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it." "Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed: "Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" "Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said: "Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. "Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said. "I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again. Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face. They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time." Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?" "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee. "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?" Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience. The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present. CHAPTER XII ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors. The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores"--as Tom said. Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls. Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it. One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said: "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." But Peter signified that he did want it. "You better make sure." Peter was sure. "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self." Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time." "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive. "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." "You DO?" "Yes'm." The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. "Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" "I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." "Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" "Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!" Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: "I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity. "I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" "Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine." Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing off!" Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen. CHAPTER XIII TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences--why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice. By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more--it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit--but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper --hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him. But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die. As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate. Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour--which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way--as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait." About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said: "Who goes there?" "Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names." "Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature. "'Tis well. Give the countersign." Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night: "BLOOD!" Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate. The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way. They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper: "Luff, and bring her to the wind!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Steady, steady-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" "Let her go off a point!" "Point it is, sir!" As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular. "What sail's she carrying?" "Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir." "Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!" "Aye-aye, sir!" "Hellum-a-lee--hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! NOW, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!" "Steady it is, sir!" The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eyeshot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws. They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines. When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire. "AIN'T it gay?" said Joe. "It's NUTS!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?" "Say? Well, they'd just die to be here--hey, Hucky!" "I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally--and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so." "It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do ANYTHING, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit HE has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way." "Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it." "You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and--" "What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck. "I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit." "Dern'd if I would," said Huck. "Well, what would you do?" "I dono. But I wouldn't do that." "Why, Huck, you'd HAVE to. How'd you get around it?" "Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away." "Run away! Well, you WOULD be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace." The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke--he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said: "What does pirates have to do?" Tom said: "Oh, they have just a bully time--take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships--make 'em walk a plank." "And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women." "No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women--they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too. "And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm. "Who?" said Huck. "Why, the pirates." Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly. "I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these." But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe. Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep--but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing--and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep. CHAPTER XIV WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept. Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again--for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad--for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes--without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said, "Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," and she took wing and went off to see about it --which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene. Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization. They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish--provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too. They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers. They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently--it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought. For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance. "What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath. "I wonder," said Tom in a whisper. "'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder--" "Hark!" said Tom. "Listen--don't talk." They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush. "Let's go and see." They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again. "I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!" "That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop." "Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that." "Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out." "But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't." "Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of COURSE they do. Anybody might know that." The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity. "By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe. "I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is." The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed: "Boys, I know who's drownded--it's us!" They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all. As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon--from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization--not right now, but-- Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment. As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value--among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar. CHAPTER XV A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting. Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers. He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily. "What makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up. "Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid." Tom disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed" himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his aunt's foot. "But as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the best-hearted boy that ever was"--and she began to cry. "It was just so with my Joe--always full of his devilment, and up to every kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be--and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream, never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour, and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break. "I hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been better in some ways--" "SID!" Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it. "Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of HIM--never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most." "The Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away--Blessed be the name of the Lord! But it's so hard--Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling. Little did I know then, how soon--Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug him and bless him for it." "Yes, yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy, poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I ever heard him say was to reproach--" But this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down. Tom was snuffling, now, himself--and more in pity of himself than anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy--and the theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too, but he resisted and lay still. He went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below, presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village --and then hope perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred in mid-channel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered. Mrs. Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and Mary went off crying with all her heart. Aunt Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through. He had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle. But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him. He threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there, and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village, he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations. So he stepped ashore and entered the woods. He sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake, and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar. He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say: "No, Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?" "Well, the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?" "Pretty near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here to breakfast." "Which he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly into camp. A sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other pirates got ready to fish and explore. CHAPTER XVI AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning. After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time. When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus--with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor. Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them. But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness: "I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver--hey?" But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said: "Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome." "Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here." "I don't care for fishing. I want to go home." "But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere." "Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home." "Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon." "Yes, I DO want to see my mother--and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little. "Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing--does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. You like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?" Huck said, "Y-e-s"--without any heart in it. "I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself. "Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps." But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said: "I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom." "I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay." "Tom, I better go." "Well, go 'long--who's hendering you." Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said: "Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore." "Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all." Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling: "Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!" They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction. The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway. Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said: "Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago." "So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing." "Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom. "That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way--haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't." "Yes--heaps of times," said Huck. "Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?" "Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before." "There--I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it." "I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick." "Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't." "Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. HE'D see!" "I bet he would. And Johnny Miller--I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once." "Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch HIM." "'Deed it would, Joe. Say--I wish the boys could see us now." "So do I." "Say--boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my OLD pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's STRONG enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!" "By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was NOW!" "So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?" "Oh, I reckon not! I'll just BET they will!" So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly: "I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it." Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance: "I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck--we can find it." So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it. They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well--something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them. About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves. "Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom. They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunder-peals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in. But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened. Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around. As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras--all of them chiefs, of course--and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement. By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one. They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose--hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form. And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present. CHAPTER XVII BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up. In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized: "Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob. Presently she stopped, and said to herself: "It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that--I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more." This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls--playmates of Tom's and Joe's--came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!)--and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so--just as I am now, and as if you was him--I was as close as that--and he smiled, just this way--and then something seemed to go all over me, like--awful, you know--and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!" Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance: "Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once." But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices. When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life." As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit. There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon! Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said: "Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck." "And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before. Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow--SING!--and put your hearts in it!" And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life. As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more. Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day--according to Aunt Polly's varying moods--than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself. CHAPTER XVIII THAT was Tom's great secret--the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches. At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said: "Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off." "Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it." "Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?" "I--well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything." "Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to THINK of it, even if you didn't DO it." "Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way--he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything." "More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and DONE it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little." "Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom. "I'd know it better if you acted more like it." "I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?" "It ain't much--a cat does that much--but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?" "Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him." "Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us." "And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here." "Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?" "Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now." "Well, try to recollect--can't you?" "Somehow it seems to me that the wind--the wind blowed the--the--" "Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!" Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said: "I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!" "Mercy on us! Go on, Tom--go on!" "And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door--'" "Go ON, Tom!" "Just let me study a moment--just a moment. Oh, yes--you said you believed the door was open." "As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!" "And then--and then--well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and--and--" "Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?" "You made him--you--Oh, you made him shut it." "Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell ME there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around THIS with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!" "Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than--than--I think it was a colt, or something." "And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!" "And then you began to cry." "So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then--" "Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self--" "Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying--that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!" "Then Sid he said--he said--" "I don't think I said anything," said Sid. "Yes you did, Sid," said Mary. "Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?" "He said--I THINK he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes--" "THERE, d'you hear that! It was his very words!" "And you shut him up sharp." "I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There WAS an angel there, somewheres!" "And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller--" "Just as true as I live!" "And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went." "It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!" "Then I thought you prayed for me--and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead--we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips." "Did you, Tom, DID you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains. "It was very kind, even though it was only a--dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly. "Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again--now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom--take yourselves off--you've hendered me long enough." The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin--as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!" What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus. At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners--but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached. Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her--she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over skylarking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow--with sham vivacity: "Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?" "I did come--didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you." "That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?" "By and by. Maybe about vacation." "Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?" "Yes, every one that's friends to me--or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it." "Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller. "Yes." "And me?" said Sally Rogers. "Yes." "And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?" "Yes." And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what SHE'D do. At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple--and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered. Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain--the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things--and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it. "Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and--" And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy --pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction. Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away. Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said: "Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!" So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done--for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning--and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth--the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page. Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain. CHAPTER XIX TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market: "Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!" "Auntie, what have I done?" "Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word." This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said: "Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it--but I didn't think." "Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow." "Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night." "What did you come for, then?" "It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded." "Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did--and I know it, Tom." "Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie--I wish I may never stir if I didn't." "Oh, Tom, don't lie--don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse." "It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving--that was all that made me come." "I'd give the whole world to believe that--it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?" "Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum." "What bark?" "The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you--I do, honest." The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes. "DID you kiss me, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did." "Are you sure you did, Tom?" "Why, yes, I did, auntie--certain sure." "What did you kiss me for, Tom?" "Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry." The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said: "Kiss me again, Tom!--and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more." The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself: "No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it--but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord--I KNOW the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look." She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie--it's a good lie--I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!" CHAPTER XX THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said: "I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live--please make up, won't you?" The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face: "I'll thank you to keep yourself TO yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again." She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away. Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece--a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation. "Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at." "How could I know you was looking at anything?" "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school." Then she stamped her little foot and said: "BE so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!"--and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying. Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself: "What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl--they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does--ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix--let her sweat it out!" Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still--because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!" Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout--he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle. A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick--something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good!--he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost--the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten --the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?" There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt. "Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?" A denial. Another pause. "Joseph Harper, did you?" Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys--considered a while, then turned to the girls: "Amy Lawrence?" A shake of the head. "Gracie Miller?" The same sign. "Susan Harper, did you do this?" Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation. "Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face--it was white with terror] --"did you tear--no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] --"did you tear this book?" A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted--"I done it!" The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed--for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either. Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear-- "Tom, how COULD you be so noble!" CHAPTER XXI VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now--at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school. In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars. The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc.--accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used--supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired. A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy. Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early. "The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now--original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc. A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it: "In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly. "In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!" And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic. Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do: "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA "Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam. "Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave--whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tete, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!" There were very few there who knew what "tete" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless. Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone: "A VISION "Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said: "I have no questions to ask him." The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said: "Take the witness." "I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied. A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession. "Take the witness." Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort? Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said: "By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here." A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said: "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!" A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered. "Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?" Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear: "In the graveyard!" "A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--" "In the graveyard." A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face. "Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?" "Yes, sir." "Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you?" "Near as I am to you." "Were you hidden, or not?" "I was hid." "Where?" "Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave." Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start. "Any one with you?" "Yes, sir. I went there with--" "Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you." Tom hesitated and looked confused. "Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?" "Only a--a--dead cat." There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked. "We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything, and don't be afraid." Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said: "--and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--" Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging. As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it. Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated. Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue. Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse. Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before. The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension. CHAPTER XXV THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck. "Oh, most anywhere." "Why, is it hid all around?" "No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck --sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses." "Who hides it?" "Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?" "I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time." "So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there." "Don't they come after it any more?" "No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics." "Hyro--which?" "Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything." "Have you got one of them papers, Tom?" "No." "Well then, how you going to find the marks?" "I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of dead-limb trees--dead loads of 'em." "Is it under all of them?" "How you talk! No!" "Then how you going to know which one to go for?" "Go for all of 'em!" "Why, Tom, it'll take all summer." "Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?" Huck's eyes glowed. "That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds." "All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece--there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar." "No! Is that so?" "Cert'nly--anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?" "Not as I remember." "Oh, kings have slathers of them." "Well, I don' know no kings, Tom." "I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around." "Do they hop?" "Hop?--your granny! No!" "Well, what did you say they did, for?" "Shucks, I only meant you'd SEE 'em--not hopping, of course--what do they want to hop for?--but I mean you'd just see 'em--scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard." "Richard? What's his other name?" "He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name." "No?" "But they don't." "Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say--where you going to dig first?" "Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?" "I'm agreed." So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke. "I like this," said Tom. "So do I." "Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?" "Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time." "Well, ain't you going to save any of it?" "Save it? What for?" "Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by." "Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?" "I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married." "Married!" "That's it." "Tom, you--why, you ain't in your right mind." "Wait--you'll see." "Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well." "That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight." "Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?" "It ain't a gal at all--it's a girl." "It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl--both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?" "I'll tell you some time--not now." "All right--that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever." "No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging." They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said: "Do they always bury it as deep as this?" "Sometimes--not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place." So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said: "Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?" "I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's." "I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land." "SHE take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on." That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said: "Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?" "It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now." "Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime." "Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!" "Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?" "I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it." "Well, I'll come around and maow to-night." "All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes." The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said: "It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again." "Well, but we CAN'T be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot." "I know it, but then there's another thing." "What's that?". "Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early." Huck dropped his shovel. "That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here." "Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it." "Lordy!" "Yes, they do. I've always heard that." "Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure." "I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!" "Don't Tom! It's awful." "Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit." "Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else." "All right, I reckon we better." "What'll it be?" Tom considered awhile; and then said: "The ha'nted house. That's it!" "Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom--nobody could." "Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime." "Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night." "Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway--but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night--just some blue lights slipping by the windows--no regular ghosts." "Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em." "Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?" "Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so--but I reckon it's taking chances." They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill. CHAPTER XXVI ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also--but suddenly said: "Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?" Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them-- "My! I never once thought of it, Huck!" "Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday." "Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday." "MIGHT! Better say we WOULD! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't." "Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck." "Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night--dreampt about rats." "No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?" "No." "Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?" "No. Who's Robin Hood?" "Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England--and the best. He was a robber." "Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?" "Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square." "Well, he must 'a' been a brick." "I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half." "What's a YEW bow?" "I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry--and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood--it's nobby fun. I'll learn you." "I'm agreed." So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill. On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting. When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat. In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result--they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud--there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when-- "Sh!" said Tom. "What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright. "Sh!... There!... Hear it?" "Yes!... Oh, my! Let's run!" "Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door." The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear. "They've stopped.... No--coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!" Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately--never saw t'other man before." "T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded: "No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous." "Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard--to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!" This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said: "What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder--but nothing's come of it." "That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed." "Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime!--anybody would suspicion us that saw us." "I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view." "Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year. The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said: "Look here, lad--you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!" This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said: "I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch." He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now. The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered: "Now's our chance--come!" Huck said: "I can't--I'd die if they was to wake." Tom urged--Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting. Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around--smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees--stirred him up with his foot and said: "Here! YOU'RE a watchman, ain't you! All right, though--nothing's happened." "My! have I been asleep?" "Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?" "I don't know--leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry." "Well--all right--it won't matter to come here once more." "No--but I'd say come in the night as we used to do--it's better." "Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it--and bury it deep." "Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearth-stones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife. The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck!--the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices--there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment--eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant--"Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!" Joe's knife struck upon something. "Hello!" said he. "What is it?" said his comrade. "Half-rotten plank--no, it's a box, I believe. Here--bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole." He reached his hand in and drew it out-- "Man, it's money!" The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted. Joe's comrade said: "We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace--I saw it a minute ago." He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence. "Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe. "'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed. "I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say." "Now you won't need to do that job." The half-breed frowned. Said he: "You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether--it's REVENGE!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished--then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me." "Well--if you say so; what'll we do with this--bury it again?" "Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] NO! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here--and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody?--seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly--not exactly. We'll take it to my den." "Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?" "No--Number Two--under the cross. The other place is bad--too common." "All right. It's nearly dark enough to start." Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said: "Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?" The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs--the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads--they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the debris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said: "Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them STAY there--who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes --and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet." Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number of a house!" "Goody!... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day. Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted: "Who's ready for the cave?" Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one. The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground. By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft. Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in? A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd--the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible. They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find. Now there was a voice--a very low voice--Injun Joe's: "Damn her, maybe she's got company--there's lights, late as it is." "I can't see any." This was that stranger's voice--the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next--which was-- "Because the bush is in your way. Now--this way--now you see, don't you?" "Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up." "Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband was rough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me HORSEWHIPPED!--horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on! HORSEWHIPPED!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of HER." "Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!" "Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill HIM if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch her ears like a sow!" "By God, that's--" "Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for MY sake --that's why you're here--I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her--and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business." "Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better--I'm all in a shiver." "Do it NOW? And company there? Look here--I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No--we'll wait till the lights are out--there's no hurry." Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows. "What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?" "Let me in--quick! I'll tell everything." "Why, who are you?" "Huckleberry Finn--quick, let me in!" "Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble." "Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell--I WILL tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me." "By George, he HAS got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad." Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry. Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him. CHAPTER XXX AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window: "Who's there!" Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone: "Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!" "It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!--and welcome!" These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves. "Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too --make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night." "I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead." "Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it--but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad--we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them--dark as a cellar that sumach path was--and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use --'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals--'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?" "Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them." "Splendid! Describe them--describe them, my boy!" "One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged--" "That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff--get your breakfast to-morrow morning!" The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed: "Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!" "All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did." "Oh no, no! Please don't tell!" When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said: "They won't tell--and I won't. But why don't you want it known?" Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world--he would be killed for knowing it, sure. The old man promised secrecy once more, and said: "How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?" Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said: "Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,--least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it--and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil." "Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?" This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said: "Well, I don't know--but somehow it seems as if I did." "Then they went on, and you--" "Follered 'em--yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up--they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two--" "What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!" Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said: "My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No--I'd protect you--I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me--tell me what it is, and trust me --I won't betray you." Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear: "'Tain't a Spaniard--it's Injun Joe!" The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said: "It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether." During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended--waiting for the answer. The Welshman started--stared in return--three seconds--five seconds--ten --then replied: "Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?" Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously--and presently said: "Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?" Huck was in a close place--the inquiring eye was upon him--he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer--nothing suggested itself--the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper--a senseless reply offered--there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it--feebly: "Sunday-school books, maybe." Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added: "Poor old chap, you're white and jaded--you ain't well a bit--no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope." Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however--he had not known that it wasn't--and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption. Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill--to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken. "Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him." Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter--but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said: "I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?" "We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again--they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back." More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more. There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said: "Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death." "Your Becky?" "Yes," with a startled look--"didn't she stay with you last night?" "Why, no." Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said: "Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night--one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him." Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever. "He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face. "Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?" "No'm." "When did you see him last?" Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands. The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave. All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles--and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer. The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said: "You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands." Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle--and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light. Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked--dimly dreading the worst--if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill. "Yes," said the widow. Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed: "What? What was it?" "Liquor!--and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child--what a turn you did give me!" "Only tell me just one thing--only just one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?" The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must NOT talk. You are very, very sick!" Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever--gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry. These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself: "There--he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave--wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said: "Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others." "Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them--and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here." Becky grew apprehensive. "I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back." "Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better." "Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me." "I reckon I could find it--but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there." "Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities. They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily: "Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!" But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said: "Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time." "Listen!" said he. Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter. "Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky. "It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again. The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky--he could not find his way back! "Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!" "Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up." "Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!" She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said. So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure. By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets--yet he must economize. By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit. At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it. "Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again." "I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out." "We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there." "Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying." They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence: "Tom, I am so hungry!" Tom took something out of his pocket. "Do you remember this?" said he. Becky almost smiled. "It's our wedding-cake, Tom." "Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got." "I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--" She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said: "Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?" Becky's face paled, but she thought she could. "Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!" Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said: "Tom!" "Well, Becky?" "They'll miss us and hunt for us!" "Yes, they will! Certainly they will!" "Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom." "Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are." "When would they miss us, Tom?" "When they get back to the boat, I reckon." "Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come?" "I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home." A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's. The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of utter darkness reigned! How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more. The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire. By-and-by Tom said: "SH! Did you hear that?" Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer. "It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all right now!" The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again. The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time. Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck." But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over. Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn. Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah! The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place. Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" --then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home. Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news. Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness. Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps. About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said: "Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more." "Why?" "Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked--and I've got the keys." Tom turned as white as a sheet. "What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!" The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face. "Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?" "Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!" CHAPTER XXXIII WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher. When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast. Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid; when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it. Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging. This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works. The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said: "I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag." "Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?" "Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's." "YOU followed him?" "Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right." Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before. "Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon --anyways it's a goner for us, Tom." "Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!" "What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?" "Huck, it's in the cave!" Huck's eyes blazed. "Say it again, Tom." "The money's in the cave!" "Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest?" "Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?" "I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost." "Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world." "Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--" "Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings." "All right--it's a whiz. When do you say?" "Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?" "Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could." "It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over." "Less start right off, Tom." "All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before." A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said: "Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now." They landed. "Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it." Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said: "Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in--because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang--it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?" "Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?" "Oh, most anybody. Waylay people--that's mostly the way." "And kill them?" "No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom." "What's a ransom?" "Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers --you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books." "Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate." "Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that." By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire. The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered: "Now I'll show you something, Huck." He held his candle aloft and said: "Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There--on the big rock over yonder--done with candle-smoke." "Tom, it's a CROSS!" "NOW where's your Number Two? 'UNDER THE CROSS,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!" Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice: "Tom, less git out of here!" "What! and leave the treasure?" "Yes--leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain." "No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died--away out at the mouth of the cave--five mile from here." "No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you." Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him-- "Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!" The point was well taken. It had its effect. "Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box." Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said: "He said UNDER the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground." They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." "Well, everybody does that way, Huck." "Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't STAND it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy--I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming--dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort--I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks--" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury]--"And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom--I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it--well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes--not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git--and you go and beg off for me with the widder." "Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it." "Like it! Yes--the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!" Tom saw his opportunity-- "Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber." "No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?" "Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know." Huck's joy was quenched. "Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?" "Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is--as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility--dukes and such." "Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, WOULD you, Tom?" "Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I DON'T want to--but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't." Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said: "Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom." "All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck." "Will you, Tom--now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?" "Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe." "Have the which?" "Have the initiation." "What's that?" "It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang." "That's gay--that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you." "Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find--a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now." "Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom." "Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood." "Now, that's something LIKE! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a BOY, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a MAN. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop--that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can. Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present. lz4-2.5.2/testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer_long.txt.lz4000066400000000000000000125636031364760661600223520ustar00rootroot00000000000000"Mdp/,*)Produced by David Widger. The previous edition was updat2Jose Menendez.  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER / /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOST of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not$an individual--he is a combina characteristics of threem I knew, and therefore belongs to<"composite order of architecture. The odd superstzs touched upon A allalent among children and slavese West atbperiodis story--that isay, thirty or forty years ago. Although myis intended mainly fornentertainmentand girls, I hope it will not be shunn1menVwomen on account, for par\my plan has beenx!ry to pleasantly remind adults of what they onceathemselvesqof how &Afelt aalked,}what queerbprises=sometimes engag>4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876T%T O M S A W Y E R CHAPTER I "TOM!" No answer.What's gone withboy, I wonder? You Rld lady pulled her spectacles dowlooked ovebam abou room; then she pAm up:cut und?. She seldom or never+THROUGH them so small a thing as a boywy<her state pair,pride ofRheartXwere built`"style," not service--she could have seen thrae of stove-lids just as well. Sheperplexednsa momen8Aaid,fiercely6still loud enyfurniture to hear: "Well, I lay if I get holIyou I'll--" 3didsQnish,"byTAtimewVnding punching D bedre broomj!soGneeded breathqunctuat Q!esBresurrectebZ cat. "I 6adid seIA beaCboy!Awenthe open door 1tooLiRuthe tomato vineG "jimpson" weedswconstitute garden. No Tom. S AliftW voice at an angle calculfor distance and shouted: "Y-o-u-QThere/ a slight noise behinhe turned"into seize al2boye slack of his roundaand ar?Qhis fwA. "Q! I m5'a'closet. What you;doing in b?" "N. r! Look 9r hands. AndqSmouthb!ISa truckXI don't know, auntcDknow. It's jam!'s it is. FWAI've if you didn't lety jam alone I'd skin you. Hand me%rswitch.a hoverTair--Sldesperate-- "My 2you!Xrwhirled1nather skirts dof dan lad fled oinstant, scramblthe high board-fenceg disappearTit. Hisc Polly"sud9broke into a gentle laugh. "Hadcan't 5learn anyQ? Ain't he playecricks y3lik1for2o b1ing$rfor him6E? But old fools i biggest SCsdog new1, a0 saying is.bmy goodness, heAplay/m alike, two days3 2how qbody to 's coming? He 'p !just how long n torment me b Qmy da!up he knows if he can makeD!toAame offa minute or'1me a, it's down agaiI1hita lick. I afcmy dut/tthe Lord's truth,bb. Sparx2rodNpile the child, Good Book says. I'Cup ssuffering for us bothHe's fullG(e Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he's my own dead sister's!po- 2ing!go U lash him, somehow. Every8BI lefoff, my conscj does hur"so_e=!myheart most,ks. Well-a-wAman !rnI aoman iU 1few)droublea Scrip< DsaysbreckonT!sol!llc hookeAeven4*B[* Southwestern"afternoon"]s jbe obleeged to make him work, to-morrow, sish himIYy har= work SaturQ when !oyrhaving holida[ he hatesB more thanB elsGOT to do8 ofIrhim, orbu1ildhom dideAd a +Agoodm. He got back home barely in seaso}help Jim : rcoloredsaw next-day's wo"likindlingssupper--as+w!reime to tell( to Jim while did three-fourth1the . Tom's younger brother (or ra Shalf-Q) Sidalready Awith2theS(pick{qchips),ba quieJehad noDous,Vsome ways. W1Tom1eatv#is>stealing sugar as opportunity offered, Aasked him questions/ Ewere1gui1nd 6deep--for sn ao trapMinto damaging revealments. Like many {simple-hearted souls,>as her pet vanitFabelievA was endow! 2a t@ 1arkbmysterious diplomac|she lovecontemplatex*transparent devices as marvel[low cunning. SaiVu: "Tom1midQ warmRchool, warn't it8 QYes'm+ Powerful1'D byou wa go in a-swimmNTom?" A bim a scare shv!Tom--a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He sear I's face, but it tolW!no. So he said: "No'm-y2not&mu I 1realoY Sshirta"Bu1tooJ though." it flatt her to reflects2Cdisc/ ' 2hirdry without any rknowingG41was 8!haher mindm tin spitZ! whind lay, I Zforestalle )next move: "Som`us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. SeeB8rwas vex:Uthinkoverlook(vq circum ial evid missed a 4. Tnew inspiration^ 1hav$undo yourrcollar =I sewed it, to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttjacket!"s#of\2facNAopen]s@a. His as securelyQ. "B"! 1Ago ' BwithI'd made sure you'#edQ A 8bee aI forgive ye^. you're a kina singed cat  --better':!. THIS time. as half sorry her sagacity had miscarried,3gla?Tom had stumbled\obedient conductconce. But SidneyId82you{Pith whiteNBad, 's blackBWhy,OA sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitdt. As J%ouIq5bSiddy, 2licabIn a safe plac/examinedBlarg2les which wer1ust\c 3lapdf boundTm--on^  D3theH& HSShe'danoticed if it hafor Sid. Conf6it!! s"ws& &I wish to geeminy s stick to one or t'other--Akeeprun of 'emse I bet%A lamX qearn hi4He was ne Model BoybvillaghkAhe m&1boyOS well1--a1athm. Withins, or even less, Cgott 5his 1. NQcause>sV1onePa heavyBbittj2him a man's oN_aTand p interest bd &emVAdrov/m1hisi,1the!--ras men's misf2 eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupAveltU awhistl just acquiredb negrohto practise it undisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-likb, a sovAliqu wrble, pW  iatongue the roof at short 5valAmids@the musicxreader probably remembers how !it.4r. Dilige attention soon gave him#kn{i< he strodeF Vtreet full of harmon1his gratitud Amucha n astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedu concerned,advantagFAwith!boO t$XComerRsumme4rlong. Inot dark,2 Presently Tom chechustle. A stranger!hi boy a shade larger'himself. A new-cAof any ageither sexXan impressive curiosioor little shabby\ of St. PetersburgA boy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-day<was simply astou B cap dainty 9 ,W-buttoned blue cloth 31#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons had shoes on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a brd it of ribbon0had a citified air|aat aten5 avitals B mor!stasplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi his own outfit seemed  to grow. N]boy spoke. If1mova--but Nsidewise, inrcle; they kept face toaand eyqeye allX b Final[ you!" "I'd oyou try i,  8$doN> can't, .-'Y?1CanACan'A +An\Qpausen! Aname"a'Tisn'c2 ofBbusiAmaybx r I 'low^ MAKE it my0Well why don't youhI\2 sa, I will3qMuch--mAMUCH!reb" "Oh^ 're mighty sm)!QDON'Tm# I ! one hand tiedn!meIr DO it? You SAY yaI WILLTyou fool "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME 2Oh,Qa hat+AR lump-%it. I darcck it offxqll takeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.O!dafQit up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--me much morBsass@nd bounce a rof~oOh, of COURSE+ ; then? What P eSAYINGTx for? W>@? XQfraidyxI AIN'TbYou arN+A3/Qeying"sihaR eachm t"we2uld  .Get away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X ba foot"as a bra' both shoving 2ainBglow"atg1Q hate" n"gex . After struggl ill both <"hoydflushecrelaxe Qtrainx watchful cautionj|acowardca pup.1ell%igozQthras'y4his bfinger.I'll make himQ, toosI care forj{R? I'v2Ba brbfVs big Be isawhat's,Ahrow'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$WBa li=DYOUR#soAit srew a line 7dus cbig toh<Ldo step(aF f''t stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl 1Now"sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;JCbettI)8 ouD yg(IDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents Atookbroad coppersApockQd hel  cderisionRtruck*t! g0. In an instantR boys1rol Aand 5ing;1gritogetherQcats;>f!ae spac"Rtuggetm A's hI 1nd es, punch3QscratT's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baIDTom %, seatedU!id# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. d went on. At last#go1 sm bed "'N1andR"1up z 8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3qff brus*DfromWthes, sobbing, snuffand occasioo &Aback1sha1his;threaten1hat1oul=Q"next 2ugh\#ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath2 as!as4was*3 sn?up a stone,2w i "hiqbetween7 ss-\1ail1ran  btelopeQchase6 traitor homsRthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemQ c utside, bu>only made2s ab windotdeclined. %Jand called#a bad, vicious, vulgar&and ordZ1him} went away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott pretty late#RnightAwhenAlimbutiously in a4 s, he unl an ambuscade,-dperson,Qaunt;g"aw]2tat nGQresolN 1 toT his %%2captivity ard labor became adamantinr$its firmness.A2I SATURDAY mora)2all4Qworld#.and fresh[Qbrimm-1ith5Pq.oeRevery:(;bif the`${music issued 2lip`Zcheer in Y~and a sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyonabove it,!grith vegetand it lay (4farZ, !to a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe-2alkAa bu| of whitewasha long-handledcsurvey  |all glak,B lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life Q holl/nd existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Bhe d 2his9Qpassea sopmost plank; rep the operB; di8gain; comp/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxuraged. Jim 3Tskipp.!atva tin paiTsinging Buffalo G#BrQwater  (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work in@Seyes,Dq now itJnot strik 1 so\%1ompQpump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. A. "alAwas only a hundWd fif!!f,43got)  under an hour. "ev an somesgenerallyto go after him. U1Say,=Bfetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :w, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tol|IAn' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'Ayou 6;Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHEx ever k.I9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'DeedBwoulfASHE!:Tlicks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$1crygyou a marvel" aKQ alle8Jim bega.waver. "%!D2 bully taQMy! Da3gayb, I teQ! But5I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shQmy so:"Ji- human--this attrac  "ooH251put( 2il,a"ntZebsorbing!3estu/ 4andS being unwR; VAs fl3dowI k!p?JgQrear,jAwas "waCvigo.was reti3rRfielda slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had !ne\%2#daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #trk !onL Asort 2delXBd)Bb they J$a Sof fu m2!to|)9Rvery r rit burn like fire%2hiscly wealt-  (bit--bitoys, marble trash; ;8to buy an exchange of WORK, maybnot half7s,*an hour of purk4dom.#retraitened meansB "s rgave up 1dea r=1oys4AdarkN hopeless7-d burst Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-sp# boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdS's ga" the hop-skip-and-jump--proojris hear7lis anticipa2AhighM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* a steamboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboard rounded to ponder#an-ious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (self to be drawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck 2the~sQexecuAthemR1Atop tsir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"ghand stiffen8AidesZaet herW mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &Come ahead W0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--out d"- #t'Q#'t q Take at(hRstumpMQthe bof it! StSy*age, now--lg go! D`GesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (She gauge-cocks)op-. R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artist(!n vi\ gentle sweecthe result, as $R rang4)alongsidv',Uwater #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,Mmwork, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druaWORK--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:dboy a big%2cal!?"yIATHATy +SresumC \Aansw1carG 3ly:% S it iU q. All I,$it suits Tom SawyerP dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1movALike(yIYsee why I oughtn'Gl-. Does a$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}Rhat pz-Q in aSlight!to AnibbAppleR swep daintilyUxorth--steI"ba<1notK effect--addeAhere|there--critici=5 again--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!!nd$ bested, absorbed. P 5 heTom, let MEOa littl _o consent"alnhis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -R if if 2theC& I^3and. Yes, she's 2; iNcbe dontcareful; v"onmRthous aybe two can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? --lemme R5try. Only--I'd let YOUQas meJfWBen, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o 6she}1im;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEq tackleb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySPFN2?GRfeardW3ALL areluct|ig @qalacritW. AndR3lat )erAb workeZ"sw>1in !un( #ed< 1 saa barrel i- shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1outd!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;">out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2swas lit )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to lrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ6ass doorknob, a dog-Asbno dog]3hana knife, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hada nice, good, idlM#th--plenty of0 { 2encQthree coa !on%#If2n't9>9ut ) have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidaF3tnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,"ouQing it--namely, ."inDKaa man boy covet a} s !isG necessary;^ difficul" vattain.U3! and wise philosopche wri 1boo:A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And B helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers or perfor&"ad-mill is ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles Qdaily0q(summer, becaus@privilege costs themable moneym iOy"IKc wages#e XAturnhn3txsresign.oy mused atsubstantialg!chRtakenC X `whheadquarters to report(sI TOM , ]q l"sirby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he rnoddingh" "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onAgray for safety.%" urse Tomdeserted #ag&` !ndqa0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I go=BplayKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,1liegBe--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1noteQately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i1canS whenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he !liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou getd3som in a week, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov Rcture 3theBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur Qurisho"hooked" bughnutn !kieqand saw^just start%pHstairwayll OUroomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$ @!irgXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx ! c4acollec+ surprised faculties#sa9"1cueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} !fe?bnd gon9BrSa gat#eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,into a muddy allaled byBback%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capdand puQhasteR the public square. 1, wtwo "military"/1nie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G% of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<qthe oth#@hese two great commay ! dYt condesc,"fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'd, the terms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatc=1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white 2 frd embroi  )JQettes3 fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U3his6 !efoJa memory  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKssion as adogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTessed b ago; $ <bappiesOroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MCthe girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO orsteps as3n m]2war2doo?%Q heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his=! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): boy ranh  Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes= ]Cdown d as ifBsome %of!a goingnHdirection. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes) 2e haBaway the treasu#B rouq cornerb only minute--(v Cbutt,$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomE1ypercriticaZByway"re # 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite$, though Tom comfor$wa 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[2oorfull of visions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He took aa scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY(qe leastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"heC-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_#'sMs6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA"soE  !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimfuQexultR1 Thold Qcld lad($#ba DstooFCthe wreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2At gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5herQgain,W RUmf! 4youbget a lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious I wasn't az enough." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a Zr7T cipline forbadhA. Soh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W 1exa chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingR fell upon"no dthen, _aa film Bears~f recognition!pilasick u6lBeath=bim besee}5 onforgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A b$ZK Qiver,  Qcurlsw9<8Dsore .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r(ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9_Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a =0 suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithASathosse dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqAblurP"at1ichEAflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark Qut atKDdoor|Bsongunshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafqthe rivGvT"imfQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*6stream, wis4L Rhile,_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all bhollowU(1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` t1 i m\ set it up in new0!vaosTswore ithbare. At last he rosei?NJAdepa4l A. A half-past nine or ten o'cT/"he93alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"r-story Q. Wascbre? He+,j*s stealthyf/ !thn3 he1und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Gback hands clasphis breah41his 5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelterqomeless-C, no "ly@Qto wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy cal[qa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!astrangvhero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingleam"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal a"Q, vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ omission. CHAPTER IV THE sun 5!2Qanqui@"ld]DbeamWF'eaceful village~a benediY Breakfas,M had family worship: it bega# ab built6up of solid .Scriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality SNBsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.Q gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 33bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. LRirs i kingdom ofnEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Why3youfi!e,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2yourthick-h (, I'm not tea[1youpyC1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so nice. There, that's0boy." "All{1! Ws;"TMary,K C+'4Neryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressur;-curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplishe% 1hin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the cut anything, buwas a "sure-t"" 5t  inconceivable grandeur_!Bat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterDwill] erhaps. Tom"ri' scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setMne$Rbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~Senterqkitchen F ?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&Q remo,5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflVncert;sin was refillAthis3xm&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory2DJBrt a%2chiohis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5qunirrigyBsoil]aspread7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin of color)Aaturh7neatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQBplasNI3airAI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%13use 1#on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MGB oveshoulders,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1nowHed exceedWAimprcand un2abl"was fully as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU b forgeCshoe"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/#taHis9Bthe 9rthem ouH2losStempem~z bm$o do everything + "do2Mar&&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere foÊit. Sabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWmall, plain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticketYes." "What'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W property :!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz0qarious  s ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceeE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man, interferedGny-61and!pura boy's !inM +-;"Dwas }W# i}2ook the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,8r\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ong. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#woA of 5*2eciY. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (forty centsose easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industbapplic$toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet MaryL2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Ctraihis mental facultiesyCtoo (hRand h~+Abett {D idil0dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it) 1hisfcome out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{ecTom's qstomachn areallyB:1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa day lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI In due ca Astoow 2in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-bookh)!ndcforefi"O(between its leave Fd attentioG  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheez@&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.01. T  V slimEirty-five a sandy goate Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-"wh*per edge almostD:rhis ear-asharp %Ibs curvqa(orners of his f--a fencRcompe l1ght2outh,a turning "e Bbody a side viewqQrequiW hp1! o2ing cravat which?as broad}sE bank-note,!ri Bendspboot toe G8Qly up@ athe farche day sleigh-runners--an effect"l hiously producedTe young men by s'T{Does against a wall hours together. Mr. WaltE as very earnesBmienSsince1honFt1 yhBplac% 2rev'^so separaJ2hemU +Aly m4 "s,% /_Amsel BvoicI  a peculiar inton (wholly absweek-days. He beganSthis : "Now, , I want you` Qto sivjust as3andj1 as1c\ d mV yourBz.!wo!rea_Sit. T etay good2boygirls sh# do. I see one+girl who is1ingtindow--I am av1she1ks !ouGre somewpbsperhaps#one trees making ax irds. [Applausive t$.]"to"ryou howit makes me feee"any bright,/mfaces assembllike this, lea Iu!be|!."[rso fortETso on Fnot ?!toK5Qt1 or9!waa2doeR3vard#so=" familiar to us all. The lpQ thirawas ma2+aresump` of fights andZ& among certai.a;#"s,%y fidgetingGAwhisN"gsextended far4wide, was1eve \ses of i5d0incorruptible rocks"Si!Mary. But now1y sGceasl Qubsid(ofY' EDncluz"<\freceivZ burst of<t gratitude. APP)-7 DS san even1mor less rare-- Rntranvisitors: lawyer Thatcher, ac i`Eafeebleoaged man;,ne, portly, middle-aged gentlem+iron-gray hair^a dignifie@N\doubtless`q's wife.Cas la.*EEchaf1rep$s; conscience-smbq, too--]$uld not meet Amy Law .'s eye, & not brook her loving gaze. Buty1M#isftnew-com1oulall ablazebliss in vCnextBQ"show2ff"=+ might --cuffingfR, pulu0'0$akG2s aq=u+$every art aseemedufascinate a9w:&2r aqe. His k?uBalloV*y 1 hu!in angel's garden--and Qrecor5!wat]out, underk1wavW happU2AweepRO9MaO !gi"stdof hon as soon as Mr. '<1fin?']4int=   D man o be a prodigiousqage--no}A a o!a  county judge--alh  baugust !io6s1hadn`$oerT!devqhat kin;i Tde of"ey'1wan] N-#oa]Shalf "heu rom Constantinople,j(miles away--so heAtrav ,1see g"se1Aeyes3dVcourt-house-- 1saihave a tin roofR awe +iBreflMbs inspbas attL!imE 2ivex!cethe rankstaring eyesw great Judge)# cir ownO.Uaimmedi"n'u, to be11eatand be envbRchool) -been musicY$1 ~: "Look$m, Jim! He's a f<ure. Say--look! h"rto shakRs1him6RIS shH ! By jings,d.Ayou ;1youJeff?" 1fel,Asortofficial bustlactivities, gitorders,21ingments, dischar)4dirk2her!+1re,y r81a targetc2ian!ed-D9t  krhis armE"1 of$ m`ca dealQ splu1uss insect authon@Bs in@84adys4 --Dsweetly ov[s|l!boxed, lifting # wW f~s at ba ApattBood ones Sln /ensmall scoldof qdisplayD&E1ineVnx!tobipline<S"s,th sexes, found bus\Aup aB$y,I' kB6ffrequently had ',"reSa1s (Qmuch seeiK7").- Qittle 5 in$wa 3Xboys wuch diligVDthe (E1+paper wads9Qscuff.above it  ;Rman s beamed a majestic jud smile upon@,dwarmed h Ae su uhis own."!he& Rtoo. e1qonly on]!ngR\Jmakeh ecstasy completwas a ch $to-gZxhibit a y. SeveraNTa fewe!b2n b !ar #4tarYinquiringq3hav! t worlds{2German la8##ga:A a srmind. AndG#is ,r&2dea- Sawyer  Mnine6redY #onQ dema @a thunderboltaa clear sky2 waQexpec"ic^ %Qsourc ten years. BubsRno geEBit--"erAcertf check#d-#ird-.therefore elevated toK_3the@ B#heNSelectW1new| a annouGheadquarterp |#stFbsurpriB-the decad=bso pro>Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upBenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pisC, asUrthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ- zX not well bea]l  ;0s.preposterou8 cp !hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou3glaH0sH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. S1nde+ss grain %"d;zZa dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 rdly comequaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom--=aThomas'"Ah~'s it. I7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6 you?" "TellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ay1boy\ t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is aEmany--very,(b many.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day'#okR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb K Dest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us dr%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be%$th3church begaBring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C and occupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ. The crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C hadTG vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circn!!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlS25 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesides2hada"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidental$)noa!hef1ed ytas snobcongregapHefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea[ !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1rea a relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, Whilsts+OIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO is mortal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3charder4t~1 riu'ittprayed. -, N#wabwent iIhtails: it pleadea rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M!yeusee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorVcseed sm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of dP5thev8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a62 --F6notgc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck!1expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iyQnot dY4}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea %"symҵBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto aso smallSo be !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dog<1idllong, sad atM vt, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"Bfor LMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/]u he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>or revenge. So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my!R toe'+ified!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 Churt=!re~ish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don'tyou? So all this row wGE1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8theA fasRTom's:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn' o spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat dreaded by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zPxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared( B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off of full-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody forbadfd to fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot e:+ # lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife preca1hadgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youI it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHbNo! Is 3so?JS some* Gb3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%ee WOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j By an3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk2tryx * c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-meal shorts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3 on one piec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aY+"rorqdark of6mooQ burn/ s}3 2ean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFv+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'Down;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i " T 3y Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ u7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<01'emGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'Brock9i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layisQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOLqNothingaS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately be94#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thfore. When Tomy'ittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=P!ofY1who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unkn Sd(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verQroom, rTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2  -3" TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~Uain't" Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "adown,"3S succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Z%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr !. #(t&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e f!barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$2disD93ing[#Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Cdvalleya a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hamme,of a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at bes! +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 1sheF then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{%2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsAfore:Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer='(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterl.jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'ERillag1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $re1Tom5| {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on/1com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldlsvery monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoistdg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `TdriftQbehinb cloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.Q tookQa large spring-knifkc;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'!and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; !ed1gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Elife:) fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halzAf bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4ir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,s8y burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you#"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xk1. W2youAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon'", KGr fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApresQCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith?t, yield !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like S-fr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o`S leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp #up܎:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCraa lateq ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" bt#arq#pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe ground. TO*BSome!1tole't if 8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedrAen hP  JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!vDboys&tXappy Tturn  E$th\)wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'*{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemYqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goA"do iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:2bef=eV<n2donC ."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay !oc& $%.6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnEuRed-HanVj VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Bdown4 it, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccosVad al- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuck after oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,r-browedwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffKbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuQyway,%by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#MB." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 1run 1ook whe pistols wekf#I Astop$t..Scome now becuz 7# 5it,7 ;I:lF3 I x1wan7runo}m devils88! i,2 deUph2hapAdo l?  Byou'aO1a--but +b's a bM!e2you:Ryou'v^Fyour=A. No"y U Adead--we are sorryC|#atCee wiqright w!toq#ou6 Rm, bydescription #weOaC = !we?RfteenTnAm--dis a cellard2was(sn I fouE sneeze. It wHmeanest kin16!lu " t3o keep it bp use --'twas bjt!it(#I iR lead/ 2my :3theR star-ose scoundr Q-rust*6! pbI sung"B'Fir!!'cblazedtt5he aqwas. So".  2offrjiffy, svillainwZ4N  a%oods. I B we eatouche|mydgAot a y4  bullets whizzed bdo us any harm. Ak!we9 the sou$Tw at chas2entS }!tio5_>ctablesgot a posse fH1offuV R bank&Cit i+qsheriffaa gangE bea8}"My}!.\XAsh wz"A sor2 ose rascals2H uadeal. But you cy  dRlike,euY2ladQpposetOh yes;JAown-(and follc AthemSplendid! Db2m--d BOne'B!olfdumb SpaniQben a*;once or twicQt'oth[sa mean-", VTP men! Happeng Dthem1R back2one 2andoQslunkR. OffAyou, 8ellfA--ge to-morrow Y Y"2depS!1. A__qe room   : "Oh, ptell ANYbod bR! Oh, eAG_ gByou -N%credit of w:1 di"Oh no, no! DVA!" )B men g  o said: "T2 7w Cwon'B2whyoia#n?  explain,!tothat he al Aknewn w"on3 Ahose!+4manUv 2anyHast him Juworld--c& for knowing it% ?d secrecy3morW1How&se fellowsA? We!ey Ding &usea!t #ramed a duly H rep -S lot,--leasyrsays soI5see)ragin it@ =much, on #!inx }3tryQstrik a new way of do7"ay u ' I,BleepQso I r  up-street 'bout midf a, a-tu~fg - AI go old shackly brick store by WP1, I3 Red upO%ll#2k.  %bcomes fQtwo c B"slf0%lose by me,+1unddreir arm'( V y'd stole1OneAa-sm3b one wah, !ri.s\ !me"igACt upBfaceIy og 1ig - eA, bywhite whiskerQ xT `ua rustyo a." "CmDrags ?Cis staggq5forA !n ?5Aknow Qhow i#msCIQTJy o52you<Fb'em--y eiO&to| awas up8y sneakedsso. I do$!'4+1iddDstilG& $ d:# JgVe begK%heX swear he'd sp;rr looks'as}2two  What! The DEAF AND DUMB ma8ia4at!!'aderrible mistake! H63his.jC Ru>sthe fai+i2 whNK smight bQ1yetdtongue/0@$to in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creep!of1scrape, R's ey 1mh["bl5 9. P  ,be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair o qr head v3=I'd protec !. 1 is ;#leAslipout intend+ D. up now. YGEthat4 K q. Now tAme-- m S it i"3 -- a betra Alookit!ho51eye Qomenton bent over 9ear: "'Tab--it'sO'1 Joz ) gjumped chair. InWQ 1ll ,pe 4you{m#2ing#and slitting noses2wasown embellish 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge\"an #! a different matt242q." Dur7B&:alk! c Y 1 sades (h2hishad done,_ C#!d,^a7eqexamine,its vicinity AmarkP Qblood11y fnvut captured a bulky bundle of)Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0O!5AblanBlips]!-were star1ide3Qreath$ended--wao! )tarted--st?+in return--1QRgs--fiv1ten%!end i<f burglar's toolsY4,G' bMATTER sank back, pan5deeply, unaEably !eyt/m gravely, cur!V--and= NYes,appears to relieveB Butcdid gi# 3urn9!YOU expecBwe'd2?" a \H a inqui *Q havenfor material$ aa plau4#-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dK^/!noq+ to weighiokventure he c it--feebly: "-+T books, maybe." Poortoo distress!sma Cqed loudfjoyouseb detai$.Ratomy1hea Bfoot%b by sahat such armoney in a- pocket, q it cutoctor's bill likM Aadde!olG!p,y2re Z !a5Byou awell a bit--no wo8aqf #of8 Z'.*!ouit. Rest6Rsleep6Afetc2all_#brritat<6 heaBgoos!ed{! a)!icM!esf"aroppednBideaarcel b%.K%2Avern]9. c talk 3XW ahad on%rought i3"nod however "ha"kn/ bwasn't!sot%a qoo much:Helf-w!Bu![ 4'2gla@. Shad hnt!no4 beyond all qusnot THE,Oo mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust iD dir_`Anow;WA musw ;) in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golS \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# pYea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtRladiev gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny bclimbi2the hill--to 7 S\Qnews xBprea h(h the stor$Z'he visitor#gratitude"erbrvatiooutspoken. "Don't}a# it, madaGre's]z"'r beholdeQthan -Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellsname. WAn't ] v2butim." Of $&uriosity so va|"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvita'mm be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO  I "to% rJ9"ypV8a noise L#Rake m:rWe judg0j2worMgQle. T"dlikely! !--Shadn'CoolsBao work pAhe u1 waGbyou up4carDR? My BnegrAstood guard sr houseeLmk By've`ack." More!C cam"beD,aand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vacecQ1 waVly at churchQ stir1Beven` canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! 5yetA#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThDu's wife alongsidRMrs. mZQ as sI6ved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tirQdeathBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"T"sa2youIQnightEE/!noa kced palh$sabba pew,as Aunt Polly, ing brisklwa5pG by.64qGood-mo), A 'got a boy up missing.o1 myD!st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvtto sett'q  "he H andar than7d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxietCc's face. "JoeVSK?Y1No'b"1didqsee hima?" Jo="wa!su7 "ayWQpeopl amoving %ofWs}3aloD a boding Aines&k 1 ofzy counten\'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  !we4ill Zcave! swooned awa f#Ao crrringing'Bands alarm swept/lip to lip,Agrou 2to ithin five minutesCbell fwildlyN6he "upF/EJ insignificanD<xforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !!rd#ou1bef{nDrror was half an old, two h)dbcere po6aighroaA riv gC. A Blong091nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#anPa'q They cC)2too"wa/"l N;z#. tedious022ews/>wA dawqt last,   was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasqcrazed;L{, also. sent messages! p encouragVtWaonveyereal cheT3 ]3h4'BdaylpQspattRwith -grease, smeTBclay Bworn7#HeJHuck#behad been provid%3 hi"Adelic feveruhysiciano4allrcave, s  ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'ahe was@Q, bad;7%in,fBr Lord'sKu !R"a \neglectez"aik good spotvQ-`"You can depen(>2at'xAmarkdon't lea9Doff. He n3does. Puts"2ome)0$on"re\Ccome(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti3jad Q ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]7edhansack71vis;Y S cornAZ ,o#ly#edCver one wan4z"pax!, [wcseen fE hit Bdist@qhouting0-shots sentr9:)1berrthe earthe sombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/rtouristI7s "BECKY & TOM"DbtracedbRL=2cky'#Csmok near at h =1-so!biqribbon.   recogniz'e%>4hover ii7crh. !ofiAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latestqliving h*RawfulpV! c.3SomzAw ann/a far-away speck ofzWglimm*&rn a gloKDshou)~fAscor'men go tro:1dow echoingz1aa sick; Vointment always f!e  a 0 donly a2r'st ree dreadD2^ 2s d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0_;accidentaly, just made,groprietorS ++Tiquor)premises,qcely fl3  public pulse, tremendou)1the 2 wa5qa lucid%Rrval,lasubjecta asked--dimly 7" worst-- W.! Thd sinceaEill.p.h "stSup inr#bild-ey1vWhat? W)$Lm;lace has shut up. Lie dV! a&&+!me!" "Only02 meQing--&one--please! Was it Tom Sawyer TT burse>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn no5 bu1rF t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Ugone MmJ$e bout? CuM +@TR.2houoD1dimu/7$3min^uF the wearrhey gavhh(|?&. o herself: "TNJh/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KR! Ah,j!PDAleftIThope ^5or strength either, to go on| E CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*By trNathe murkyqSVr ompany, visit familiar !eI$--adubbedw rather over7ptive nam uch as "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"\so on+hide-and-seek fro^u b AengaBn itzeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol+-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still Uand talk:CscarcelyM3nowXK"ar!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anphHA she[.ed,yD   2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry k sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratAtion rit curta,]jnatural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for future guid oqir quesAey wD, "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark|g$ed?( of novelties to @!the upper worl. 3oneQa spa s", L1cei3muld"Rof sh[stalactit" land circuml.c7 [' H) 1kedG" OQadmir_ +1lef~bnumerous Aopen?0#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa| supported by rfantastic pillarsR# ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  Q-dripqenturies. UnIZaof vast(ts of batfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+3urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isqconduct'#'snd hurried herthe first kDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGmits wing ,ugitives plungnevery newr#ag!atRb got r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ p!lo2shaQrHe wantLexplore its b;,0t conclur!habe best to sit#Ast a9TR. NowO1timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so M gaI hearY!ot+:m bthink,#, 9Hqdown beLhem--and:!n'=Qw howK/north, or sou AeastQwhichit is. W8Dn't >bm0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at cf 2 beAthei8 3dleAnot cyet. Aqime aft"isZ< P CR--Tom qgo softlo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf satR Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73 .Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthemTrclay. Toon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:AI am DAungr5J!me!!of . "Do you remembP"?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--!asTQas a 6li"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentP6  Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abunda"co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-byGtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you k#?"8'4pal}`.Qnw 1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)S&il#diA{to comfor$ `$AtU!C"?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatHM#itbe dark then--enotice w/1n'tnbIaanywayNr mother8you"bthey got q." A fBened "inT"brfSSsenseRe sawh made a blunderw% _hs2hat08! Tebecame$ndO uful. In a new burst of grief21 sh  ^ g"ingQstruc@s also--QCR:half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discov M""at/Harper's. 2 GR !biqno doub2:)Bwas a !on/M $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left;Q Band ,.~dhungriD poor morsel of food whetted desir c : "SH! DiuAthat 2othyV " aq like the faintest, far-off. InstantlAanswYul|/d M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridorG0s4. P  s(R ;.BV%Rappar a BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFT2spe[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addAdin,#Qpopul massed g}*!to ver, met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated;~Pb;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a processars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--and dr out rainiY"rs veK& c1ppi% romplete nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ldv"!orL 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWasuditory71him=1tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCudescriptOahow he %tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to he glimpsed aD speh6Clook*A day ;"2lin Oit, pushedshouldersa small hol1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Rappen#beVhU@ !se* 2at %oft/d[ %4rore! Hec7for/I%j @ @"imoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1wayI& !anbn help2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, "#,"Dahey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" n m aboard, rowFa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn.Fhome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenFf}5and~to grow mo7 QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  `"di8her room1Sun34she$ash1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickm Rto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom; neit5- Uhe onB or H-x-bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome? the Cardiff Hill event; alsoDthe "ragged man's" bod-%  ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!toc2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friend4Tom$2ing>2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%!goHRy10he thoughqRn't mqO said: "Well,1others jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doubt.)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tjite as a sheet.1at' matter, boy! H,Arun,qbody! F=aa glasL1!" "* gba!!thJface. "Aqall right. W1a M#Oh,'[cave!vXIII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sE1boatll fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulFeCelf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@,)"hiQ closrthe cra} "thif his longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd v-tick--a dessertspoonVZ2fou&J3was fallingsPyramids' Bnew;Troy fell#this of Rome7Claid(bChristtrucifiethe Conqueror creat British empireJolumbus sailEqmassacrqLexingtons"news." K2now3ill=4be #whBthesy3gU"ll\Bsunk2then| 3of ,w "raCw;} ]c thickof oblivion. Hoa purpos Aa mi=? Did thisR pati$d!fi ousand yearsready forD2flihuman insect's need?has it another important object to accomplish  xcome? No .Band 2hap alf-bree1out ^>Qprice8drops, bu3a(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2bcavernmnQvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VB BcaveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfromthe farm1 hamletsseven miles|I >1ugh%irYSrall sorAprov~NsUO/3hadN! as satisfactory a%. funeral y"av&1 ha Y%is5Ir*Bgrow[#oni#agovernIrcpardon5k qlargelyT2ed;Qqtearfuleloquent meet<$he#a committeJCsappt!apBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a mercis trample $ut| Gfoot/h0"tokfive citizenwt&+idat? If. ASataC Cselfe$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, !is}Yq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now's face saddenedw bI knowJit is. You got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you!musdB els's alwaysG4we';uget holT swag, Huck, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,.ns entire+%in-5Aonly* Ofit before.lp:,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;G wasn't n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom,agot onO twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesRthinkoney's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aSto giVqmy drum71&Cq I will0jxGT" "A!--va whiz. [!do1say "Ri$w,say it. Are*4IWaPave? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q G$qanybodyRm 1go,1^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,Gri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pull itj_by myself A neeturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We"bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-stru ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, "'s1imetbshed I2omeD" Aqaafter the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!Balik d5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Aat'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'6ahole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.Biplace abou$P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi1o run acros]vAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--W$!lyV2wayRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUeWhat'sCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.mqit ain'2!seV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovXfter they,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %1andaboys ew)#ho\  $ l0Qy toi#*a7tunnel, then madir spliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E z'%pr)Tom felt ams quiver him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 o whispers,!foS-d gloommcoppresBirit yYBpres:ar 0LQuntilE reaAG,Wndles%rhe factx not really a, BpiceLa steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donKp}3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+r stared Qe mys Qign afB 6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'nk8Qhe di,Away /%2mou!Vave--z ChereS \wouldy#ngkJ 4"ofV #so & &omi3feaX5. Misgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7Lc him--)ym$Sfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poin`#wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VpS AhuntG4box5wen77c -ink of fetc4theBbagsFS@B1soog oys tookr1 tofm a rock. qw less w!#gue*<,Q2<  `3'reOEickswhen we go to robbingNSe tim hold our orgieCsre, too ful snug9 ) 0CW@ bI dono P%;#ofT% wWCto hem,] /"ing!a Btime getting late, chungry`We'll eat0bUwe gec6y Temerg4/ 0ed warily f 5oast clear!weZbon lun$in ! Ac sun d#Bowar[Rhoriz] Ay pun  kimmed uDe@KR2wil1chai 91ilyZ7 alandedI3tlyd4dar7c"!id!in 1lof the widow's woodshedrAI'll.3 up*ev1 it(Upa?!unna!ou"od!.#it"it=be safe. Jus 3lay\-  Atuff1 I nd hook Benny Taylor'swagon; Iqbe gone!"nuHe disappear#re agon, putcBtwo Rsacks!"itA"w"ld,Qon to!tarted off, dragging7rgo'|h+"'sh &tgay9q fy1 on: Pp~ allo, whop  nLWGood!1me,, !ar&Gpingy*waiting. Hhurry up, trot ahead--Ahaul~Vyou. qnot as b as it4# be. Got b;in it?--orQmetalO+4tal2Tomjudged so9 1boyGthis townAtake0$%sol away1imeNing up six bits' woraold irNS sellh foundry thaz3y w; 8wic'$at6 work. But that's:4Fnatux ",  '!"!wa1to [$Ch#wa$ever mind; !n&% !E'1uckGRf=hension--for heub} falsely accus; r. Jones, we haven't!Udoing Rlaugh!'-,ymy boy.i that. Ain'bgDgood+%Ye_"sh"nA &B to #yw%"n.-(n,%to be afraid for?%is+J3not+qly answ"!inq's slow$ ~1S,;into Mrs.# dXeroom. 3 le nae doorz3gwas grandlyn1bod4tof any consequenceu2&~ ThatchersQkB Har3the!es, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mac he minister3beditor-qa great0&)?all dressX bAThe a recei;<RBartiJdany onP#we!iv such loP Dare cov Bwith:and. 2 bl[ rcrimson rhumiliaUNHv u at TomFAsuffhalf as muchQboys "however. Mr. Bn't at home, yet, so I gave him up;5$astumbl2anda Qat myG"br "Bin a(0!An1B did3Sv 1. "TyNr." She cto a bedchanRNow washI% y. Here arnew suit$ clothes --shirts, socks, .UCy're+A--nobthanks*&--b! And IY%Bz y'll fit boyou. Get Dthem await--Bdown 1youRslick .3n s \rV HUCKD! "we can slope, ifu'Ra rop" high fro"Shucks!D d|%IQrthat kiUfa crowd.,^(8 athere,a"|&4! I"an!miRA a bX'Scare Q" Silm .vhe, "auntie has been  afternoon. Mary(your Sundayb readyU 7aen fre  . baAthisus qclay, o;ra)Mr. Siddy jist 'tend toT own busiO#'sis blow-nb`It's one2#atx1havtime it'sF 1andl sons, on=uw"Vcrape they helpej9&of4'Rsay--h, 21, i yk+wK  Fold 2is to try toq#_ J( C1to-,overheard himvbto-dayvas a secre"B it' lRof a (XE RknowsSL##1allf!trro let oz!doVQwas bqHuck sh !be!--xn't geta yG1outAknowS"AwhatA'zAtracYAbbero'V  a  BovercurprisQ#AI be4 drop pretty flatWbchuckl aa verygEe aatisfiZy. "Sid, ib2tol3Oh,:Qwho i# . SOMEBODY told--3 @ZJl_ Dpers:Cmean:R to d XI7<x !you'd 'a' sne sn9EtoldZ)0)Tdo an{21an !y&~mo_Tp(+J >  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i  0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a WD-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :k set up as a targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rcs-Fuld spar2 sAtartFi  \'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tmpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5DsilearawkwardObroke it@(AMayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* #ls Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 general{way. All gazed, nwpoke for a momentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelve thousand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seenl`e time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom >Q cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessJ&};3now1say0Twere dBrepe 4didvrsomehow regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>#'s !ousix per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiBwashbrmatter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ 1fatzwin strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch1]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!mQ 7ghtzU bso talSso superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\AfootdVv!2Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#!AdmitkY National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[Amigh9'Ieither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#now undeQ_ Douglas' protec introduced him)"society--no2' it, hurluis suffer%1mornj1R bear?servants1cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifufork; h%use napkin, cupXplate&QlearndWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cS profoundoncerned;~7u E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V)r wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesqueRays ws01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea[m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!et, nor lay^ croll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy!it_(,>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub como easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi 1; I  in a-swimming--dern'd if{AQ1do 6t". H!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRattic"ipRSwhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; ntake my sh@&Syour'gimme a ten-centtimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hyx4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!QSas we3gun_1a c*"ll+AfixeEArob,p&olishness has  k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUevYnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph! V#!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>%Q gang e_b, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/4NCturn$s? 3right offBB@Atogem"avQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd nNre choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ing Abe dt midnightthe lonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Bll rNB3up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)Bsome RLIKE!frmillion )X!ieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bu+!sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriage) iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prospc2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomey turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaH&Rat pacQtheirDs at'4. Pby David Widge]previous ediwas updat2Jose Menendez'>  THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER0 /BY# MARK TWAIN' (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)P R E F A C E MOSTW%e 1s recordw areally occurred;nr two were experienc6 myb!rObose of"wh7 ]#3mat7$inY Finn is drawn from life; Q also$an individual$is a combi,Ybistics #re_whom I knewSabelong t.Sosite of architecture. The oddK!!stzqs touch}"onDall prevalentchildren!bslaves5e Wpwe period1is ay, thirty osAty y ago. Although my book iaGended mainly@ Athe qtainmen1boy7 girls, I!7#ill not be shunni "7$at;d, for vmy plan<"tooo0ly remind adul0 they onceathemselve^ 1of (rhey fel aalked,}Rqueer89s=Gimes 4. z!dUTHOR. HARTFORD, 1876TT O M S A W Y E RI "TOM!" No answ& g4iat boy, I wonder? You Rld lady pul'"!eratacles|$!ov #emcthe ro0rn she pm:&ut"m/seldom or +rTHROUGHhrfor so WJj!asyIher state pairA3 pr8V2her",Qbuilt3"style," not service--4'!se+raetove-lidsUs well. She looked 2z"&mo68!aiK1Qt fie0673oudP;the furniturUhear:e IQ aet holI1you A--" 2="by AtimewVnding punchingNL%dre broomj!soGdneededE2to punctuat Q!esBresurrected no f B catiJ6"diz!ea!1wenthe openDA andUiRtm?he tomato vin~"jimpson" weedsB constitb the garden. No Tom. S AliftWmavoice  angle calculfor distanc1 sh : "Y-o-u-T w!slTnoiseU"h42  i to seize al2boye slack of his  aand ar?Qhis fwA. "2! IE 'a'closet. Who!(.Pb?" "N  1! LI!at yourU8(Qsr mouthb!ISa truckXIk?-1aun. Dk^3USjam--FewFWAI'vet" dk"leGA jam@e I'd skin you. Hand me switch.# h.i d air--Sl was desperate-- "My Bbehia hatesB{5 S else#'ve GOT to doLIrhim, orbu!ilaTom di>-eidFAgood02. H  back home barely in seaso}help Jim small colored1sawS9-day's wo"likindlingssupper--at le6e{n:"to~=8hiscto Jim"Jithree-fourtht~$rk. Tom's!br( (or rather half-Q) Sid!al0Awith A(piccup chips),Z ca quieH1andE,%noDous,VBsome* While Lstealing sugar aQ offe{X7C askw+questions/ Ewere1gui1nd deep--for Bwantxtrap him6damagingments. Like ;pI6-hearted souls (1was pet vanityAlievA `4endowed with a t@ 1arkmysterious diplomacy0qhe loveacontemn0xmost transparent d׏ as marvel[low cunning. Sai u: "Tom1midQ warmR, warn't it8 BYes'OPowerful1'u "wa n(FAA bim a?Ae shvTom--a togL#unr.9;suspicion. H8dL93facKK!ld aQ. So [ ?SNo'm-ynot very mx =1rea+oY Sshirta#Bu } 1tooJ though." A-Qflatt hO7rreflects2;hy-2hir1dry!ny Bknow/*s8!hay Fher Glqin spit/1herC whe wind lay, I ZqforestajCwhat )next move: "S]us pumped on eads--mine's damp yet. See?" 88"ex:Uthinkoverlook(v circumstantial evidenc!mis=a 1. Tya new ins"5ion^ ho undo yourrcollar =bI sewe to pump on/Qhead,3you? Unbuttsjacket!#sh#of\2fac1Aopen]s@a. His qas secujQ. "B1! W Ago ' #I'11sur'#edQ A 8bee  QI forg(y*. you're a kina singed c"s --better': . THIS timu Sahalf sV*her sagacitymiscarried,3gla?ATom i3Winto obedient conductconce. But SidneyIB3you5hisith white thread, but Qblack5BWhy,OB sew8r! Tom!" rnot waitQt. As4ent>w3o85bSiddy, 2licfk abI|afe plac/nrwo larg22les "A wer#us.+sthe lapd6them--on^  D3theHpJDShe'D"anoticeQit ha_'for Sid. Conf6it! she sews]&_ &I wish to geeminy sstick to t'other--Akeep!run of 'emsR I beI'll lamX qearn hi4!Hene Model Boye villaghkAhe m&1boyOS well--and loatim. Withins, or even less, M1tenG-As. NQcause sV1onePR heavV.Bbittj2him a man's ow_aTand p 1bd !emgAdrov% mSb)y25!--ras men's misf+eiaexcite!of. This newwas a valupSveltyP1stlojust acquiredb negrohto pract5Pundisturbed. It conma peculiar bird-lik5, a Aliqu wrble, pW  &#he9Lh(Droof at short 5valAmids@@Busicxreader probablyEbs how !it.4ra boy. Dilige attention soon gave 8#kn{7he strodeFVtreet full of harmon1his gratitud 0^ an astronomer feels who hasg planet--no doubtlqfar as Eg, deep, unalloyedRs concerned,advantagFAwithT!boO t$XComerRsumme4ElongJNqBark,2 P"ly Tom chel2!hiustle. A stranger!hi boy a shader'himself. A new-cAJaA ageither sexXan impressive curiosiPJdshabby\WJ!Thy{`Qdress\"oo  on a week-A<FFa astou B cap dainty ,W- ced bluL3b round%5was#Rnatty0"sohis pantaloons2had;82 on#iGonly Fri"He!wo necktie, a br  aribbon0had a cit#KR air |bat ate&avitals B mor1staUIsplendid}1hig!oshis finerUhabbi E outfit seemed d3crow. N]boy spokeU,2oneEa--but Nsidewise, inrcle; theyArface toaand ey!ey#X - U!" "D3to see you try i,  8$doN> ,L.-'Y?1CanACan'A "An>\!paMp ! Aname"q'Tisn't5"of^,Well I 'low^ MAKE it my0)why don't youhI\2 sa}01ill3qMuch--mAMUCHrb" "Oh^ 2'rey smart, DON'Tm# I)l one hand:n!meIr DO it? You SAY aI WILLTyou fool~ "Oh yes--een whole familiesame fixqSmarty!| CSOME "Oh_a a hat+AR lump-8;Z[Bck it offqanybodyG61akeb!re suck eggsYda liarn %fighting.q and datake it up1AAw--aa walkXSSay--!meA morBsass@and bou1 rof~oOh, of COURSE+; then? What/ eSAYINGTx for? W>{EIt's XQfraidyxI AIN'TaYou ar7""I+A3/3eyiM1"sihaR eachm tCwereH  .XGet away Ahere"GoyourselfDI wo B"Sobstood,X Sa foo0d"as a bra' both shoving 2ainaglowertg1Q hate# nfget an a. Afte=Auggl ,Aoth <"hoy#flHmSrelax Jnx watchful caution|acowardca pup.1ellRig brozQthras'y3his44r finger.make himW 1toosI care forj{4? I;1a6big Be isUmore,hrow him'3at !T[Bothas imaginary.]$at's a li=DYOUR 2n'tAit s1rew6n ;G dus cbig toh<qFstepZ/y stand up. Ateal sheeFTz!w{ 1tepv-Dmptl N="sa$'dnow let's D crowd m;abetterZ{HSAIDh*--Wd[By jingo!Xtwo cents.jAtook1bro)QEpper>$ 1ockd cderisionRtruck*g0B. InF.QstantR boys1rol Aand 4ingdg3d6Acats3, 1pac"Rtuggetm A's hI 3nd fFs, punch3Qscrat"T's no,covered -#:'ry* confusion2for) ;the fog of baXcDTom %, seatedU!id1# p sts. "Holler 'nuff!"3 heaboy on%Rruggl1fre*Hcrying--.rom rage. dn. At last#go1 smwbed "'N"1up -)8jyou. Bny 1foo+Qnext  3Mqff brus6S2ustGsobbing, snuff5and1\Eally&Aback1sha1his;.1tenbhat he=a do to]the "next) 2ughout." ToTom respo0Rjeers"st7off in high feath as soon asI4was*(up a stone,2w i "hirbetweenhoulderss-\1ailran like an antelop_Qchase6 traitor{"Rthus ere he livednaa posia2gat2som9A, da the enemy toonly made2s a gond declined. %J2's and called 0 bad, vicious, vulgar&"ndc3[ m} Twent away;!he\ he "'lowed" to "lay"s'.g1gott>2ate#:2and$he climbutiously in r #unl an ambuscade,-Bpers4#Aunt;g"aw]2tat n her resolN 1 toT his %%2captivity3ard/became adamantine in its firmness. CHAPTER II SATURDAY mor;e,"&4Qworld#.and fresh/Qbrimm-1ith5P1wasng in every:(L" i>'!wa*RR issuQ rthe lip`Zcheer iniJfAa sp&tAstep locust-treQbloom bragranthe blossoms fill air. Cardiff Hill, beyona]ave it,B!grith vegeta!2lay (4farZ, to seem a Delec"Land, dreamy, reposefulinviting. 1ppe5e2alkAa bu| of whiteZ long-handl11ushcsurvey  1qll gladE2lefoand a deep melancholy settledAuponaspiritmrty yardsQoard k nine feet/s. Life c hollo7existence^Ba bu{1ASigh)Qhe di 2hisfpassed)Isopmost plank; rep the operB; di8Qgain;f8/ignificant qed streaqar-reac!co7'un8s"wntree-boxQ Jim 3skipping 5at va tin paiT singing Buffalo Gals. BrQwater (rwn pumpKRlwayshateful work inu"Seyes,Dq now itJ1not\k 1 so\dompanypump. White, mulatto/Qnegro! 9there wai'Qtheirqs, rest?trading plays, quarren $, g, skylarking. And h"al?Awas only a hundRgnd fif!!f,/3got)  under an hour. "ev an somesG!lyto go after him. U1Say, I'll fetcp'7'll`"soJim shook :wq, Mars #NOle missis, she tol|IBgo an' g<s3an'F#op ' roun' wif_61sayZQspec'zEAgwingAax m ,rs5$an' 'tend to my ownQ--sheed SHE'D+f to de/5in'2you Cwhatt!id#. SSthe w talks. Gimm $--qbe gonerC a a\!R. SHE ever knowI9 she'd take)Qtar dd me. 'Deed2wou.q"SHE! S ver licks--whacks 'e}URimble1whosE ,p5C }w%1 awP1but6hurt--any#it!if$Gcry.you a marvel" aKs alley!Abega.waver. "%!Di=bully taQMy! Da5Fb, I teQ! But Tom I's" 'fraid aissis--" "And besides,R will#shAmy s,^o"Ji- human--t> Qttrac  "ooHAfor iaHe put( *a"ntZebsorbing!Qest w. 4andS being unwR; V2s fZ3dowI k!ApailJg3rea+Awas "waCvigo *retiringcQield 7a slipperZ {and triumphEeye.''s energyeAlastq}Tthink%!fuE 1had $ne$Sis daH"rrows multiplied. So~ 1fre!s #tra**!onL 2sor@2delXBd)Bb they J$a bof fun8%m2!to|)96verZcof it burn like fire%2hiscly wealt- q examin0 B--bitoys, marble trash; ;8 to buy an exchange of WORKX* 7s,*an hour of purk4domi#retraitened meansB "s qgave upoAidea r=1oys4 !rkN hopeless7- e Qm! No=  3than a great, ma1 8entC 6! >qtranqui. Ben Rog%v-spresentlnK boy, ofbwhose ridicule dreadingdb's gai the hop-skip-and-jump--prooj6is lis anticipa2!HeVM3ran appl1 gie1a la%melodious whoop, at vals, foljB by -toned ding-do,, a* amboat. As henhe slack}1spey"1ookhQmiddlU, leaned faro starboarderounded to ponderaborious pomp3/Oce--the Big Missouri (d| %;wdrawing"of 1boac capta9engine-bellbined, s!,o7 Qself  <own hurricane-deck the ordersQexecuAthemR1K, sir! Ting-a-linga!" The$way ran almos he drew up slowly towarq. "ShipToo backmsHis arm"gh^Atiff8xAidesZei mAstab%h Chow! ch-chow-wow! rQhand,"escribingly circlesC3 rePing a forty-'wheel. "Lg l-chow!" Thej5 e "to &RShead B0her! Letg*mslow! W-A! GeO ead-line! LIVELY nome--outd"- #t'Q#'t ! T~ t(hRstumpMQthe bA! StSy*age, now--l go! Donb 3thesH SH'T! S'tH'T!" (Suge-cocks)"on . R--paix9!, yDBen (n "Hi-YI! YOU'RE:ump, ain' nH 3hisPFouchI!eyan artistZ(!n vi\ gentle sweect&!suܙ"s $R rang4)alongsidv7  2mou!%er #e (n"tu1 k]! "Hello, old chap,M4gotTs, hey?"heeled suddenJn31it', Ben! IC9TnoticDSay--I'm goBa-swi, I am. DoQ wishacould? Aof c# you'd druther[ !--0 ?5? C)I (6(omR:d,#bi2at 6` ?` $hyIETHAT#umC \Aansw1carG ly: "Well, maybe it iU zI,$it suits Tom Sawyer dV1meaQ!le{`you LIKE!3Thep u}1mov^"? I(see why I oughtn'Gl-1. De$"get a chanW+# a fence every da}1hat(2thez-Q in aSlight!toAnibbApple2R swep daintily=forth--steI"ba<1notK effect--advAhere?there--critici=50--Ben wat2mov@1getm`!"ndp( bested, Ted. P 5 heTom, let MEf a littl _o consent1althis mind: "No--no--LBl"n'ly do, Ben. Y7'e,1's  particula.u a--righ eNQknow -G if C& I^3and. Yes, she's ;-bbe don[ careful; v"onmRthous Ftwo can do i?wayybNo--is6Hso? 1--ljust try. Only--I'd let YOUCas m:" "Ben, ., honest injun; but-D$nn!o s!1n'tAhim;7/!, "/Sid. Nowy` how I'm fixed? IfEa tacklKsb[C&Qhappe+"itOh, shucksbQ3as lgA youocK,#mySFN2.bafeardW3ALL Rareluct|ig @qalacrit1. Ah i4e  )erAb workeZ"sw>LA sun( #ed< 1 saa barrel7shade close by, danglQslegs, m^& aplanne! s0Iter of more innocBT33o ln6material;ed along :; they ca6BjeerArema2A. Bytime Ben\!faY'1out!ra1he $+Billy Fisher for a kit!good repair;1whe>out, Johnny Miller b in for a1Ir! a!ngw  uCso o, R hourHT hour8 afternoon>," a5poverty-stricken; !2was literally )3 in2. HhW"s r q mentioetwelveA par6 a jews-harp,*ece of blue bottle-gla}uOthrough, a spool cann2B key|u unlock1, a!mchalk, a ca decantU& tin soldiQcouplQtadposix fire-crack&r kitten only one eyJ61ass>knob, a dog-Asbno dogv3hanNvb, four1as of o C-peea dilapid)old window sash 1hadsa nice,G_2idlM#thq--plent40 \2encQthree coat! on it! If2n't9>9ut )"heT have bankrupted+Bvill)d2aidCmselR!itnot such a!,Yqall. HexA3dis8+ a great lawRuman |,1out5 ing it--namely, ."inD&Ra manzboy covet a} s !isG! n5ary;^ difficul vattain.U3! se philosop&)che wri ]x@A now comprehen>qat Work $isaatever dy is OBLIGEDj,<OPlay< not oblig# do. And 2helyIto under* :U1ruc artificial flowers orW_5ing"ad-mill is work, ten-pins or climMont Blanc amusement 3are2y gentlemen in Englho driveb-horseJ$nger-coaches tw}r thirty miles daily linummer, becaus@privilege costs themDablenQbut iOy"IK wages fo*XAturnh1ntoI3txsresign.oy mused at3ovea%ub?GQwhichRtakenC r Sworld`whheadquartersv[eport(sI TOM , ]q lkby an open {@leasant rearwBpartYwas bedroom, breakfast-s dining and library,|c balmy D air* stful quieeq odor o%Y@.rowsing murmur (AbeeshFeir effec!he AnoddfQver h"i "sh5n,%1but#caLdasleeplap. Her spectacl)1progQup onsAgrayA for-F1ty.%" 1Tomdeserted #ag&` !nda0 'iRpower p_repid wayN said: "Mayn't I$} yKCaunt&'ready? How mu Adone*AIt'sd.XCTom,ro me--I= bear itIb<u; it ISRF." dY1truxevidencezw uBsee LRrselfe a1uld^MDfind1perQ4C. ofAstat true. Whenfse entir*"ed1notelaborately QrecoaM!an!n aeak ad8ogw astonish 4was#unspeakable. S|bnever!m U's no^# i2canCwhenM2 %Ad to B." A!AdiluO!he)!liAby a, "But it#s seldoma aRI'm bsro say. go 'long$pl/Aryou get@3som i\BB, or(tan you." &awas sokbcome bSsplenSchiev1hattook him#th&tsE- choice appleQdelivit to him,C"ov cture upoBvaluNflavor a treatAo it uit came~ "siT9ugh virtuous effbsd: a happy Scriptur urish, he "hooked" bughnutn !kieand saw SidQstart%pHl2 stairwayll tck roomsecond floor. ClodsAhand$A thegC)waXmtwinkling y52d a #Si'a hail-stormx # ct$Allec+ surprised facultiess*arescueQ or s0+Bclod7tersonal<G} MAgonerSa gat3eneral t h&2too9iY$!usTit. HGrt peace+ /"SiWAcall"tt s black $6+n1rouC1skipQlock,hinto a muddy allaled byQ%s aunt's cow-stT4 He aly gotrly beyo  reach of capuQhasteR the public squ$1, wtwo "military"N!ie02boy"met for confliY AccorO qto prev#sappointt <G3 ofޢ these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend)<the otheruse two great commay ! dYSt conyb to fi!--DAbettIil2Rstill<ber frys !geon an eminence/Qconduield operations bysD aides-de-camp's army wX uvictory+ nd hard-f@ 1 ba# T were counprisoners 'drTterms rdisagre d7y $ay 03ed;X 4R fell?and march "ayhTom turned home slone. Q!as &3useJeff Thatch-1ved_saw a new girl e garden--a love^<blue-eyed creaturQ yellir plaite1two-tails, white summZd embroi  )JQettes fresh-crow2ero4without f^+a shot. A certain Amy Lawrenc2U2his6 !efoJa memory of  Gm 1 he#d to distr#; !rePdKQssion"dogi o + ~Aevant partialit pmonths win8bher; sTesseda week ago; $ <bappiesx Oroudest Rworld WQshort_e!inRinstactime ssgu a casual=)visit is dH"sh this new ange's furtiv -shqchim; tf Bpretq6 Aknow\4was %"show off" in 2sorabsurd boyish ways,# wBadmi%{Bkept is grotesque foolishnessome time;, by-and-by,  )s Adang) gymnastiche glancZ@!idy MC girl was we(xher wayO $upn r leanedq, griev5b+Roping! tarry yetblonger 1halA1 moO  Qsteps m]1warQ heav great sigh asp$Ar for threshold.#1his:! lI", Qhe toqa pansyG L ! ss): 3 bo)3rou\Uad with Tr twoY Aeyes=#haWCdown d as ifBsome of interest goat direction. P- he pick:&w#ry !ba! iO,aead tifar backSas hefrom side8aide, iO edged nearer B; finally his bare-#W3(liant toes)w 2e haBaway the treasu# OArnerb only minute--(v Rbutto$1 inhis jacket, nexheart--orstomach, possiblAnot 82pos<s anatomnot hypercriticaZByway1# 4ung#<nightfall,ing off," a16 2irl exhibite again, though Tom comfor$"im$ 3hop@Abeen>,*een awar&P  Bs. FX he strode home !H[[%advisions. Allasupper.cspirit"soCrunt won "what had #inV child." He tookÁod scoldrbout clB Sidp1seee!miY QleastQtriedIugar undGveryG"goknuckles raQ!foxc "Aundon't whackmhe takesQWell,/1torsRa bod 1way"do. You'd b9  bsugar ifq*watchingu sezckitche Xs immunity, l"gar-bowl--a sor&2glog2Tom/Fllnigh unbear_'s fingers6`Rowl d1LVbrokeFin ecstasies*JB (!he controlP#Rtongu!il5 toF Bpeak6!d,^P1in,18A sit0 bectly Lyshe askejimischief|u! tCrRbe noA!so+   !asefpet model "catch2 Heo brimful of exultR1 Thold Q rld lady #ba stood abovwreck discharging lightnings of wrath(#Y v, "Now iVm2A8zt gQspraw1on 2loo potent palm#ups!to($"keTom cried out: "Ho 1'erbelting ME for?--SiK it!faused,\vl1heapABut 1shes5her3she RUmf! you didn'ta lick amiss,)Wsome other audacious Iaz 9 ." Then her conscience reprgeqshe yeaato say'3 ki l;ashe ju - !beo4tru!a  Ae wr7T cipline forbadhs. So sh rsilence2d1bffairs av2rt.|1ulk# a W "ex chis woBknew3Qheartb Bas ojAkneen was morosely gratified b 1ous\)OAhangno signal take notice of nona3ingRR fell"no cthen, s& a film of tears~ahe ref recognition!pilsick unto deathbim besee}D one forgiving*u]cds facew rand die word unsaid. Ah,+Hs !el2? A bZK the river,  Qcurlsw9<8sore heart a .sEhrow 1ow 4earxfall like r4 (ps pray GoAgiveAbackG!bog\  , AabusY9[Rmore!k.blie thlsi02--a suffererP"se grief C*# e$so, as feelBwithAbathos se dreams,hto keep swall ,Qlike to choke03swaqEblur:, which overflow}xr winkedran down*l?XAose.| ba luxu'"hi:op17gsorrowXnot bear to have"ly'Lixrng deligh\ Brude0Cit; <too sacr/rcontact7Tso, pU,his cousin Ma31in,!EalivAe jo!sesB4hom+ an age-longbof oner aountry!go~in cloudBdark u"on|Munshine in at@1"wa B fars the accustom"1unt=?S` desolated"suwere ind9. A log rafAthe S invi%fQhe se!i on its outer edg Aempl+reary vast*iram, wis4Lw_ u rly be djQt oncs5 un6c1the&'routine devisWn9N*Y+Cflowt>got it out, rumple!ila 'Fily increais dismal felic) %HeFQ1pitu knew? WOrshe crym8! L! r%toRarms #ne  him? Or2she(!co1all (,1? Tuch an agony of pleasu ) ` tC and 1gai 6set it up in new!vaosTswore ithdbare. Vqhe rosei?NJAdepa4l A. Ahalf-past nine or ten o'clock hey 3alo+'street tothe Adored Unknown ;X{ `; no sound  3lisdVear; a c/qwas casa dull glowbthe cuCof aX"c-story/Q. Wascre? He climb,jCs stealthyf/ !thn qood und]#at j Aup aC#,ith emotion; Claid]$wn9#g bit, disposingpAuponp Rback,]ands clasphis breah41hiss wilted5*1thutdie--ou~ jyno shelter bomeles-C, no !lya to wie death-dampsR!ow8  2benvTinglyqmthe great3cams4SHE:!eeww4'E outvT glad/U,p4oh!A!hev Atear>poor, lifWform,=>Dsigh~1a ba youngE so rudely b:*Duntimely cut ? Aup, a maid-servant'cordant voice profan" holy calmqa delugAwater dren#rone martyr's5"s!BstraB hero sprang uAa relieving snort%awhiz aPa missil/vir, mingledHV"rm Qa curHBshiv1glal !smb 1vag rAv!e >Bshotvgloom. No!Q, as +all undressed for bZ  omission. CHAPTER IȷCsun 5!2QanquiT"ld]abeamed8D4'ful village~a benediY Breakfas, Aunt Pold family worship:cL2ega# ab built6up of solid cAScriptural quot/s, welded`%A a thin mortar of originality Bsummf  7she+a grim chapter xMosaic LawKaSinai.n Tom gird Qloinsto speakh2bto "geverses." Sidlhis lesson/"c beforAbentt his energies5 smemoriz\CfiveeAhe c$"8the Sermo!Mobecause 2uld.#noO, were shorter. Aalf an hourugeneralw!no;wn =Qraver) %olN'Bf hu-3 !iss3bus $Qng re%ions. Mary took<1booAhearPSrecitahe tri!|] Gog: "Bl!ar 1--a " "Poor"-- "Yes--poor; b025#In? :$ i/Ubthey--" "THEIRS BFor +. Lairs is[kingdom &MavenEy>_mourn&ShzS, H, A S, H--Oh, IO$"wh is!" "SHALL BOh, # fb shall-- *Y/ I 5iWHAT? Whyyou tell me,1?--do you w !! bmmean for?2youthick-heaRhing, I'm not tea[1youpyA1 do. You must32leaI75. D"be"buraged you'll manage it--f 2do,11Agive #ever so niceC, that's0#bo'"ll{1! Ws"TMary,K C+'.ueryou minMbsay it's,< AbYou be"sou%. Qtackl ;3" [did ""*2und double pressure of curiositprospective ga2 diA)2ithD he accomplished a shin SuccesQ gave  a brand-new "Barlow" knifqth twel2d aSRcentstZSnvulsGthatGVsysteL[ DDoundTrue, the scut any!buwas a "sure-enough" 5t  inconceivable grandeurSBat--lBWestern boys >A got N|a weapon1#qunterfeZ3a injur<3obmysterw] erhaps. Tomr˻to scarify82cupuR\ "it )ArrancCgin F dbureau" !ca\ qoff to  eSunday-school. FLrtin bas 8andmABsoap!he  3"oo21setM4n aRbench2; ta$ d+be soapeiy; sleeves; poured>& ,W=y~e'  " Ubegan?ace diligentlyFStowel|-g"oo&&3 re),5and2Now49lhashamesmustn'tVbad. Water wShurt c#"Tosa triflncerted. T=5sin was refillAthis3xO&ito'b, gathaf;/% ebig brGU9(hen nDboth eyes sh8Bd grC+t.[ , 1nor&testimony of sudsR>2ripT Aface mse emergf>x,fnot yet satisfactoryQclean territory* " a%Achinhis jaws,mask; bel_p4dis lin1 dark expan5unirrigated soil]Rsprea7,rin fronlAback  2himBnwhen sheY%dR4him$Ba maqa broth1adistin<Bolor)Aatur2haineatly brushe2its curls w]Ainto2intsymmetrical effect. [5!iv;w smoothL[3labdifficultQplastere AI]3qhead; f(] effemin71andBown  lith bitterness.] Thenr!go! aP1 ofF#cl%1Busedy##on Bs duvH!wo s> were simp1"ot%#clothes& "soJRat we qthe sizV brdrobe3D"put`"s" !!S; she+Qneat "/m,his vast shirt MG2ovem,soff and c V-QspeckSrtraw ha)1now#oed exceedWAimprcand un2abl":Yy as E as OOTa restraint e lgAm. H-"atU Q forgie"5!peZ61 cothem tho"ly/2tal s9Bthe 9rthem ouH2los:Stempem~z bm$o do ever  Dn't "doAMaryN&rsuasiveTPlease, Tom-- 3So &zhoes snarlingJ(son read9/hree children se3for "!latat Tom hd heart; but3andbere fo0!sSabbath`-from nin$Aten;B church service. Two  "ermon voluntarilV :2too!ger reas.TZ urch's high-backed, uncushi$BpewsU!~h4d persons r edific_bWSplain,'a sort of pifR6ard*kQon totia steeplB Tom droppe(ps2acc0a comrader]2ay,N,o)2a y*;aticket5Yesy'e'Agive:APieclickrish fish-hookX2LesExa'em." 5(0 ? W propertyGd@!tr=cMwhite alleysb  E6Tsmall+ #oro9forSsblue on(1way ,b boys Sy camwent on buyingz of various colors ten or fifteen minutes l !/ qqa swarm; #leg Rnoisy: irls, proceemoE!se &dAed a quarr84Airst5jAcameyQ teac a grave, elderly man,75QferedGny-'6>aTom pua boy's @ !inM 3;"was absorb% the boy  ;[aa pin w I boyk%8 hear him say "Ouch!"got a new reprimandJ 'csle clasWqof a pa --restless,!tr\Csome> Qthey to recite their@w%~am knewuverses /,!habe prompv8ll along. Howe)worried @2reward--in T blue,,q passagl"e '(;2pay#wo1 of  ation. TenuB equa#onc7$Tbe ex^qfor it;0Cyellow onep #enV> Wsqsuperin;"ntat1ly bound Bible (qforty cin those easy3s) SQpupil2 maH$!myKe* (the industaapplic+4 toeTthousand]H2 BDore? And yet Mary had 2two%is way--it the patie5!rk!^  oy of German parentage had wonRqor five3onc#ed i out stopp/{Gtraitmental facultiesyCtoo (haand he~+Abett {U idiodBat dth--a grievouC2he :"onpR occa$y company f(1 exbed it)  'y come out and "(b." OnlRolderts13Bkeep}Li]1tedRlong  to get a2[s6y*sse prizaa rarenoteworthy circumstancer32fuls?conspicuous for  ;AspotEyQlar'stQ4fir"a fresh amb/that often_')ed\weeks. It is{1s Tom's qstomachn 1rea 1ungo1for#.o. unquestion6-Sntire& hNPa1lonQglory,qthe ecl+!atcI rIn due K  &Rp in {e pulpit" a6d hymn-book inh)!nd cforefi"O(between its leave Frd atten0G  ! m09>y,4aryAspee  RGs asoEBas i ainevitAsheeTmusic&sq who stu'1forAplat<$ings a solo atn %!y,:Qneithen sa refer.0k. ThisN0fa slimEirty-five a sandy goate8Qhair;1ore 2iff!Cing-wE"Bsensa}!itenew hero ups C!on l Xtwo marvels to gazt#injbof oneBboysall eaten upenvy--but tb)est pangI-swho perstoo latDS themselv contribub athis hsplendor by trad01 to't wealth+bamasseelling whiteprivileges s]D2pis,Urthe dupa wily fraud, a guileful snakeRgrass !4was;ew 2Tomo"as%2eff superin"nt pump upI7!s;it lacke&wS-true gush< IQoor f' tinct taughZ-xzw not well bea]l  k4was.preposterou8 c!!hae)Q thou[!sh $al wisdom on@remises--a dozen ,#capacity,Rout a8. wBprou$glsH<T1Tom it in heL-ouldn't look. ShH 3n ss grain %"d;Ta dim suspicionbG(b--came P-! wnEd; a1`#glrld her ] +her heart brokMs jealouaangry,t'&rs3shebody. Tom G!of (Hhought). )asohis tongue,Qtied,J4 2rdl"quaked--part75cau awful greatnes rthe manGmain6H$ have likBfall00borship!ifyqLq1ark # ph an Tom'!ca9Rhim aC * sand ask!qhis nam?hwstammered, gaspe!goUout: "Tom." "Oh, no,QTom----" "Thomas'"Ah~'TI7!or\ it, maybe{'W well. But you've)one I daresay""llit to me,6Q you?1ellQ "an"Qother", ","'Walters, "5!fay sirX=n't forger mannerI Q--sir1it!B's ayvF . t, manly0 Q. TwoLverses is a  many--very,(.'2ou $can be sorryUQ*c you tOAAlearm( knowledge is worthchan an@1<3is pa; it's4#e  Dmen;V$^d3Qman yC$Alf, -5day1'llR,Y9ay, It' R <)1rec ;A1 ofDoyhood-- Gvmy dear-5tha^mU<  Jood ,L$en? H.)3 ga beautifulI*\d id elegant'"anH  for my own, always right brin"upA is |2you<{!~&take any mone^ose tZZindeeE1nown't mind t $ m+ "isB2 hylearned--no, I know --for we are4$of3boyG!. 1no vAknow2nam^r, es. Won'Lbtell u9the first3tha`!ap$Fed?"l1tuga_utton-ho sheepishblushed, nowz1his! fO'MAsankm ain himH_\ETAposshtc2sweb simplest (--why DIDH=ask him? Yet hBrt obligspeak up say: "Ad'1--d}#be!.L_hung fire."*$me\ady. "TF twoeDAVID AND GOLIAH!" Let us draI%cu3 rcharity tYsceneJV ABOUTQtcracked be2theu church ?R ring01epeople(1 ga||"mobsermon. childrenHA 5!e C C eoccupi5ith thei s, so as K{Kd. Aunt Polly zTom and472sataher--TomL%"d G8sleB2!ha9A be GrE9the{e seductive `AbsummerEs asQ crowd fil/"s: 1gedneedy postmast=!hosseen better days C may<"hiJ "ha$y3re,| 4 unmp#ieOejusticRpeacei widow Douglass, fair, smartQforty!ene,O2-he4Asoul well-to-do, her hill mansj only palactAChosp+and muchKmost lavish 't of fes,St. Petersburg [RboastAbentxQvener,3MajsMrs. Ward;  Riverson,bnew noaACance_1ther village, followRa tro8lawn-cla.ribbon-de!3 p-breakern#q clerks!owfa body;C had.G vestibule sucD!cane-heads, a circYb!wa! o !imcg admirers, ti Alast!ru ir gantlet; and/AcamedModel Boy, Willie MuffFs heedful carlQhis m5 asXere cut 2x ! b=tN,>#to, v1prisrmatrons(2ll vh !so0. qbesidesa"throw;3 Qm" so. His whit.kerchiefZhF#q pocket behind, as usual ons--accidentalN)noa!he 1ed ytas snobcongregapefully (: 'T1once, to warn laggard0straggler a solemn hush f p! <Q+vdbrokenBtitt=8and& choir is galler=GF!edthrough =conce adQY Pill-bred, but I rforgottgh!rea2. I !y [B agoV.I can scarcely rememb?_="itI kg1 in foreignj#"ry* minister & "ou3hym-1reaba relish, in a peculiar styleZeat part His voic on a medium key&Zasteadi:/i0% a"* rBbore1strY5umphasis topmost wor splunged8spring-board: Shall I be car-ri-ed to!sk !on flow'ry BEDS of ease, WhilstsyOIH sail thro' BLOODY seas? Hqregardeadful readKZt"sociables" h= #R>!to;r poetry,Cwhen32ughcqladies l3 up<3han let them fall helplesslyrir lapsc"wall"C!eynB1k\!irZ5s, u say, "Words cannot71 itfis tooV, TOO rtal earth." Aft 2hym~&Bsung2RevtSprague#' into a bulletinGuoff "notices"ge,qocietiej-1i#)o4 2st qstretch of doom--a queer custom#is vin America#cities, away x4)1 agAabunZnewspapers. Often3Eless, to justifm 1adi7l3Bhard")q get riu'ittprayed. -, r:bwent iIhtails: it pleadea 2rBttle),3rend:7=eip ' itself; ?y([State officersqUnited . ' 'C)s5A Pre.t_q Governm$poor sailors, tossed bK1rmyM ppressed millions groaningeel of European monan  A Ori5 despotism1sucDght 2tid?'rand yet-M"yehqee nor !to &alRheath)the far islB seaZaclosedW a su Twords!abmfind gra)RfavorV!seLm fertile ground, yie%Qime a?0Charv9good. AmenP!re 3a r(Q of d v8! cPy sat down whose historybook relates disQenjoyQB, he< Aendu}Qt--ifN1ven9J r  it; he kept v y a63 --Lp"gc#, qBzc of olvthe clergyman'ular rout}&VaiQtriflsRnew m3 terlardedear detected iWhole nature resen!considered adAs unqcoundre I |/B a fU'R lit  " bAew i#nMmaAtorthis spirit by calmly rubbing iti d8, embrac"eah,3armpz}& so vigorous7at eo$;part companyBbodyvthe slend9read of a neck61expto view; scra0Qits w rind leg'AsmooT !toCbodyK|been coat-;~,&le toilet as tranquib if it.)$E safe. As!ras soreEaitched@rab for iynot dare--}4iev3oulbe instantly destroyed 3did qg whileB was2 onhhVqsentenca curveTstealq.Cthe ra"Amen"r!hewas a prisonwar. His aunt bthe acmade him let it go rhis tex8droned along monoton an argumea%"sybmany aBb &byBnod 3y Wdealt in limit 2firMbrimstonSthinnpredestined& Eto a#so !2worA sav1)2Tom_&ag ;; $ % h2how:t#aseldom: Delseqhe disc MH"is!he8qreally {16forE*a grand and moving picJH"&+=world's hosts at the millennium*B !onc aamb sh"%liS[ , ,!eaAm G2hos 5les1mor/C theEspectacle werQahe boy v# D" principal character beforEaon-look<>!s;#1fac" oirhimselfYhe wishe",Q tame lionf!w 8Qpsed (ing again,fhe dryQumed. eHpA him treasur # a large black beetlformidable jaws--a "pinchbug,"8#Rit. I/=ercussion-cap boxhm1did/bto tak)b' Afingal fillipgIbfloundKZ2isl1its !ur ger went1's Co!lart5its" legs, unAto turn over!ey !lo1forF^!ofCt. Other'uncR]1q relief# wyof too. Wa vagrant poodle dogNA idllong, sad#Bf, lazyI1oft e quiet, weary of captiv(1sig"for changeMs;HAdrooz Ataile8bwagged:1urvrize; walked a it; smelt a87afeu4 4; grew bPJUA6rY1l; Trhis lipqade a gzly snatch,YA misa;3it;/nn %; g diversion; subsid  Stomac)W betweenm3pawh scontinu experiments; !ath Aindi- absent-mindi(1nod ittle byrhis chin descen/ou he enemyAseiz[2re sharp yelp&li' fell a couple of yards away, S}Amore neighboring spectators shook)a! inward joy, s2afaces rA fanI s)_aentire #ppXdog looked fo8 4probably felt so r1entc iheart, tooBaG>qor reve1So .n:9gan a wary attMnWQ jumpfRevery2B, lightingP!hiKJae-pawsin an inchB2YouUX O=3Oh,Q, I'm,/"W4=--wQa, chil9 X!my! toe's moF1!" J#ol[UBsankqa chairB#%ed! cEB"a did both0,Arestwh/d<P," ayou did Ce. N ;1shus aonsensCd climb"thg{$ThS ceasrain van Afrom!to   ' it SEEMEDi"itTBso I B my aat allqQYour ,#K+ Sthem' aperfectly" "Ther|Tdon't Ahat @'Open your q Well--4 IS1butcre notwVto diG!at. Mary, gec>aa silk a['1Rnk ofq"ek$2n." !pl/j7 !hue. I wish I mayO%qdoes. P_@.1wan-]stay Don't you? So all this row was E1youM>ght you'd7i ibgo a-f*?yI love you"1+!ou !ryQy waycQbreakX?l !t soutrage!=." dental instru?S read #%on8the 8^I"'s:Ra loo& #tiod edpost. TBseiz* n^QthrusI($inR2oy' U hung dangb- } Rrials@*1qcompenst+s'#enrschool >fast, he6qthe envc( 1 bo"5metSfap in 1row&eeth enab 3 toMRorate!1new<>4 s9ing of lad9G%in the exhib@0;2oneShad c ' 2hadr a centre of fasc and homage2o[Qnow f:OJout an adheren Tshorn!Rglory'QheartyBheav 3a disdaibZit wasn'tDo spit like;our grapes!"%e wanderh dismantero. Shortlyb3camMthe juvenile pariah5he n;Huckleberry Finn, sthe town drunkard.,-Qcordi2hat2 dr1#by "e s{t 2idllawless and vulgarRbad--zxk?eq delighV-forbidden societyAthey dared?Rlike B!om @!reNCRboys,faxenvied >his gaudy outcast cond;as under strictIQrs no8Mm1Splaye3him1timf2got% Ince.c!slways de cast-off _سll-grown meAthey  in perennial bloomRflutt sCrags{!ata vast ruina wide crescent lop a of itp!m;ecoat, +72ne,Bnear^2his[ !haQ rear!buttons farY ; 2ack1oneMeaupportos trousers;Ceat ! b$A low~contained n A friM&rlegs dr4Bdirtanot ro[Iup. 1and?A, at"own free3Yrteps inKDweat in empty hogs> in wet;3Qto go2 orurch, ornmaster or obeyXcould go  or swimW1herCchos1sta/long as it suim; nobody~V$fiyhras late! p8 d3t)2boybarefoot Qe spr'gnv~Cme lsAfalli1to wash, nor put onf0wear wonderfully. In !rdJ8tQEgoesxlife precious{!adgrthought\ harassed, hampered, ; inkBR!ha!AJtomantic : "Hello$!" K ee how youh9it.a A gott rDead ca%RLemmeC"imp. My, he'tty stiff\Are'diqget himQB2himR a bo#di4zI a blue ti@1and"adBat ItVter-hous1 T#itBen RogersI!goa hoop-stickE6SayU!cats good for2hGA? Cu1rtsHSNo! IQ3so?JV some6A's b3BI beedon't.ibaspunk-?5S! I wouldn'tqAdern 85You-,  $D'OD tryqNo, I h DQBob TOA didrWho tol!so"he Wa5Johnny Bak im Hollis8 'ld2Benmca niggLC them bre now2ellt? They'll lie. Least<1all WA. I 2HIM(I%eekWOULDN'T\Shucks! NL!te`lbone itvQnd di=2a r/BSstumpLthe rainQA wasPI qdaytimeClith his fac Atump-3Yes* I reckon so[ADid j y5 3"I :.lAknow@Aha! Talk1tryN:o c such a blame fool,c@Aat! @S a-goVado any2. YV rbrself, e middle Qwoods\5Y's a Btump1jus'7rmidnighrback up!s qand jam/Q: 'Barley-corn, b injun-mearts, ^ {q, swalle_&drts,' 1n w way quick, eleven steps,(eyes shuthen turn.<BtimeYAhomeDrout spe+ttbody. B#f$Wcharm's bustesounds likxrood way !!wthe wayB donNo, sir,x1cann't, becuzoGartiest cis towT!BE1war 2him!!'dU!ed*xto workYS. I'v1offs'9"of off of my9sAway,m 7. I Tfrogsv$*`U 5got;"Qmany gb. SomeI!'eFNSnYes, bean'~de%1Havk?,"'sSway?" "Youd6 2pli!be#nN1getb blood"thN# p3" o rEpiec!be,d{q dig a *1t '`?aYrcrossrorqdark of6mooQ burn/ $styBbean#se Uq=.ll keep drawN$nd ,mA feteXFZ v+1"soQhelpsh!toOA the.Rf!sof}Qcomes %--;"gh,"bui$you say 'DownV;awart; 1no @'Bto bgme!' i & Tway Joe Harper doe!he1'enCoonville and mosQ bwheres#say--how do:"urA b!ak1r c+Enm?graveyard '%Ubout wwXromebodywas wicked hen buried3Fit'sFqa deviloP, or maybe%,3 't see 'emcan only+ 7indYAhear9Qtalk;|they're tahat feBawaym#he<<1fteMGqsay, 'D  corpse,i,A1cat,Qye!' ;2ll 91ANY7b." "Stnright.}  "No@Rold MrHopkins mz !soqAn. BQsay sra witch#ay AKNOWQis. S$*$pap. Pap says so his own self. H! axAone *a#!eeUawas a-Sring himC !e T'!ro-Bnd i!ha AdodgQe'd a>e)that very > $heFoff'n a shed wher' s a layiQbrokes1arm"W#!diOknowLord, papGeasyK1loo- *q stiddyDyou. Spec"ifcmumble d$b're saS he Lord's Prayer backards2Sayy y:"trB1cat1To-. .old Hoss Williams t8a" "Buy him Saturday. D` ?qtalk! H5uldbAarmsF d till -?--and THEN2Sun|Sevils Tslosh 1muca,2, I' L!nLaBso. #goT!f'"--$Rafear A B! 'T qlikely.djAmeow1Yes#, Z'geR Last timeOkep' me a-me8!arA1ays( r&rocks at mJb 'DernQcat!'qso I ho Abric{!hiDsdow--bu+BbwTIn't meowe bauntiea#me|Q4'll8!is%. 3!'sOL"NoQbut aS%Ou1-3at'AtakeG .Uqell himHAAll 4. It's aIqy smallr, anywa#anybody3runw6ae1 bem. I'm satisfiiwF!enAtick"Sh!tiu plenty  1 ofrif I walCo2whyn1#wed!cawT&Cs a Q2onef YAyear,b--I'llbyou my  ALessi1Tom1 bi$pauAcare3 un$Git. ~a viewe#Awist-. The temptation+strong. At%he"Is it genuwyn4Tom>'>!shthe vacancy.a!,"YB, "iAtradTom enclosQ8 A@lately been: 4#'sG"th separated, each fee !wealthier thqfore. y'4Tomy'Dittle isolated frame ,trode in briskly=Pof one who AwithQhonesbed. Heahis haQa peg52fluT BselfJ4}31eatI r-clacrit", throned on hig1reat splint-bottom arm-',R1doz)!luW" drowsy hum of study. The51rupcd "Thomas Sawyer!(Ghis name{f7 in full&!me$rouble. "SiO"Come upcRS. Nowbwhy ar2gaiN3cusual?= "to Srefugz"3lie' Pw ; ails of yellow hair hangingoae recogn$PHric sympathy of4%;&bat forTHE ONLY VACANT PLACE girls' sZ QinstaE STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINNY's pulse\:Qhe st helplessbuzz of 5r ceasedcpupilse) foolhardyaqhad los% u/:9*(d did w"Stqto talk@ Finn." (eno mis}e words,!isE!motounding confessionYever listen!. No mere ferul answer f4is offen%1akeyour jackej  's arm performed until it!ti#>Qstock1wit) _y diminish`A ordllowed: "l!goVs!th! And let)bSt0xr titter-VripplE{qom appe^rto abasiboy, but in .G14was caused rather0!byworshipful aw%his unknown id(&IAead _#urRlay icgood fortuntss Rwn upk(1pinc<c0)'Qirl h,away from himaa toss$&nd. NudgesBwink$qwhisperO4verBroomrTom satW!hiIs "Aong,"CdeskO1eem[book. Byby atten$DNjX#ed murmur rose]AdullxEPresentlboy beganqeal furdaglance robserved it, "4G,2" a8and gave hi-HbackRe spa\ta minut2she caut4duQ, a p5layi"erthrust it away1g!pu>Kback,^2butC&Bimos;$om9Sly reZiqits plaz!heit remaindscrawlts slate, ", Bit--2 more." TdJ uno sign. Now draw some *!hi 1eft;q. For a31ref:2to ~[Sher human curi@Axq manifeby hardly perceptibles !boPkAr, apparunconsciou+Qa sor^ noncommittalnmpt to s6 did not betra/h Aawar&itM 2she!inQhesitB$lyb!Le  Apart 6=*l caricatusra housetwo gable ends}a corkscreC,smoke issuingS!thn[AmneyX" "'s !es0Bfast6elfeAworkqshe forgot $D els`f6, she gazedAAment)n ,It's nice--make a ma artist erectH$an%front yard,qresembl(qderricka 4~1ste\ !ovgek&not hypercritical;Kwas " Const! a beautiful man--now me cominggom drew an hour-glassa full moontraw limb1 arhe sprea1finE$a portentous fanwL #t'#soI wish IPddraw."feasy,"q Tom, "1TlearnB"Oh,i#AWhen At noon. D 2 goh1to dinner&PDstayAwillrGood--tAa whas your] EBecky Thatcp5yours? Oh,$& l1theU they lick me by. I'mIAwhen \2YouW)1me Yes." Now<N  tl1rdsW /1"gg1see !Oh~ain't any\ Yes it i5"No'#wX5I do, indeed I do. 4letVYou'll teNo I won't--9Fand Rouble%"ou3G6A? Evs ! aA liv!6&M! e3ell ANYbodysOh, YOU!Lyou trea#o, I WILL see."+ 1sheher small =  Dnd aQscuffLAsuedq pretento resist in earnrut letts_ slip by degrees till thesdA4vealed: "I LOVE YOUj"OhMb-Fing!1hit hsmart rapreddened >b 2ed,~&theless. J[$K junctureboy felt a slow, fateful gripM3CB earp a steady 1 im+zSwise Aborne acros Gposi0own seat, undwNBpeppX/a7f giggles i!tna~-Cstooqhim dur;q few aw_bomentsfinally moved IsU4out5ba word3"al Tom's ear tingled$EBhearWjubilant. A rquieted 3Tom nQefforX Bstud the turmoilRin hitoo greatqurn he h#hi  Bclas1}1 boef it; theOgeography4 Alake3 o mountains, Srivery r contintill chaos wask  Aspelc got "down," by a succ`"ofG1babA dN3he C2 up=ae footyielded upkpewter medalj worn with osten|for months. CHAPTER VII THE er Tom triedl shis min,# " mXs ideas wandered.9,b a sig:a yawn, he gave 0V. It $anoon r4Fb wouldm} air was 3Aly dc#t a breath stirring. IRleepi$ sleepy day drowsing<Re fivUtwenty studying scholars soothe/soul lik= #is_bees. AwayE1fla sunshine, Cardiff Hills soft green sides th[ a shimmBveilaat, ti| the purple`iWa few birds float Q lazya!ir; no other liv*bwas vi$x1but7 4 co^W Cwerer's hear=!be3A, or 3 toA  fE to do to paq drearyH4. HcQ into%poO0his face l"gl%:gratitude3wasa#, ) not know i!enXJ3ivexrcame oua him a"Va pin"!6newx 3's bosom friend sat nexb, suff!ju9;4nowMadeeply{"grm& 2ent.1menj3an  7was'rtwo boy r sworn s|1eek embattled enemies on"!s.^took a pinBJAapel #as q exerci1er.AsporZwwU<rly. SooG 6}Beach neither g g1ull denefit*!ti<!o Qt JoeAQ4ate 1rew "neFthe D/!it C top)Btom. ","Whe, " Ahe iqByoury9nbq him up)qI'll leB!e; "2get d)et on my[,@re to leXalone I can keepQfrom  S v!, go ahead; star!upb escaped!pae equator{6DawhiPtU:5G݁ghis changbase occurred often. Wg"onZ !wa5r^&t7r absorbNHYblook o? #as 3, t9b 1ogeo|QsoulsC to B1ngsVluck  S b JE !hicd&atxDcour9rQs exc Xs anxiouh|!thH mselves,<0Egain:Auld evictorfvery graspn)"to#1 cbe twi%to begin,3pin'Bdeft+Rd him;1andTk W)gl:n(uno longzQemptaswas toocqreachedFand lent a11pin 2ang a. Said he: "KbI onlyd1wan TU2#NoJ a fair;e' ~3QBlame>I'!go l#mu+L?b, I teK|"!" shall--+#liALook !a, whos\ 1ickICcare$m /ha'n't touch %%,Qbet I . He's my/do what I 51him die!" A tremendous sdown oneshouldits duplic r!s3twoW dustbRto flbjackety[ to enjoy had been tooS]sBhushhad stolencschool wCetiptoe"\nVd (Hcontempl (p4~performance |!heQributs'Zt2%broke up a flew to P1 in ear: "PutHabonnetlcyou'reBhome11you)5\rcorner,'.2 'eAslip|rthe lanAcome.!goQoAYcame way." S6"ne+5one group of -gCith EF. InL:*"et e #la.:qthey ha {Uy sat," a5JBthemQ)3ave the pencil 0.Jriin his, gui 4 3ed a surpr Ot&Gn ar2w#fealking. ToAswim]in blissS}%!DoLlove rats?" r! I hatM do, too--LIVE onesI mean dead,qwing rouSr heaAa stq[1for much, anywMA likIchewing-gum<l25o! 8qome now/?8"go1letAchewV3 2youUqgive itQ3 to8AThat`agreeable& hey cheweBturn'Y?K!irSk,!!stRbench "cet#ntment. "W>)an/circus? T #YeQmy pa7!"mew*Atime/ET" "I)f three or fouryQs--lo:. Churchr shucksbD-C (on/; qbe a cl5%nWScI grow )"! ill be nice1y'rBAlove ll spottAL1so.=v1getAhers of money--' dollar a4 cBsBSay,_+bengageSWjt`(2!b ٪"ieN.+ 2youC!to.E so.CknowqQis it2/Like? WhyG You S Qa boyRawon't \ FZ\ Zcyou kiPw all. Anybody%#do.b"Kiss?d=1for2X Ynow, is to--well[yIoAEverqH2yes+'Y8 ". z remember m F wrobbYe--yeW]YC%I  TShall 8YOUHB--bu5No, t now--to-morr8Oh, no, NOW7!--Vrwhisper aso easLQ #o took silenc Acons"and passedBarm Arher waiS]QT talezC7/outh closuher earn he add\$2Now!--d t-P3ShePj" a^2You vBfaceBs^23 seI;I~you mustn'<[--WILL you]?&,!N  .a." He n\DidlyZ(her breath stirr?Bcurl , "I--loveP-.(r sprang#tand ranfs+YCes, with1aft*uy/x Cher 1JQaprone1ped"nehV pleaSWn]ll done--all a. Don' be afraid Eat--+?+ll. Qhe tu{"aD YhandsA+2she us  qs drop;Qface,rglowingy"truggle,,O submitt-!omqred lip 3rNow it'ACdoneEPBt 2yout0mk+@!toXy,2 meand forever. Wi 3'll)u!LLkmarry +2--aX - 3ith)CEly. :. u's PART{)I('U*we^w02me, Rthere<Rchoos Dnd It parties, bE  1wayeO4're DIt'sW'3. IRheard -|%'g>mSAmy Lawrence--b2bigF1tol{ ~DlundUe stopped,1Sused. BTom!,/irst you'v3 to"W chil2cry94Oh,trk I"arshy   1you1Tom3 kndd i  BneckJ j%sg0%im!Qrhe wall1wen\bcrying05  ing word GQas req$: (!pr4as he strodWQbutsideY,2lesquneasy,: Sglanc2oorMQy nowthen, hoping she.RrepenSato fin:4shee-e1 to81 barnd feari.;'roS!ea hard2himke new advancesM ,Nqhe nervRmself{Q and _]"zstill stan797, sobbing.!'sDt smote himD ?2 ,ing exacoQproce-ge said aly: "* ], I--\ A." f4ply 4bs.D1"--/tingly. Y !mea?" MoDTom got ou( chiefest jewel, a brass knobToan andiron2{ $itd h,2thaq,{/3w * y Sc3uckY the flooruTom marH.:C hilR 1far[!rez1 noday. Presently 3buspect rRT1was7in sight. < 2play-yard7SthereU1she,v Cc, Tom!/alisten}trL7had no companions l oneliness. So s t`Ro cryfp1upb herself;qby thisZ L1gata3gai[ashe hatAhide+Qgrief?6cbroken aK of a long, $Q, achhfternoon6! nk#mo Astra/VSto exbsorrow/ q'I TOM dodged hp t through lanes96H@&ou!r51ing3larinto a moody jog. He va,"branch"9"reDH  6prevailing juvenile superstiti!0 c water baffled pursuit. HalfC1! l$disappea<+Bbehi Douglas mansion jbe summ"'Z ,1wasly distinguishablCoff Ccvalleyۖa a deny-od, picks pathless wa>r2ent;4.!onssy spot,spreading oakrnot even a zephyr(*_anoonda(at had 260 Tsongscbirds;:1 lasa trancCwas Vby no sound the occasional far-off hammeof a woodpeckiBm 1 re .1rva|wense of|8*sprofoun=Rboy'su)w!1eep melancholy;o A3s w<happy accorqhis sur1ingA sat< )oAlbowhis kneeO2n i.S, med69 * rhat lifbut a tr=1, at best +3orlRQbeen 2!eda2g--Q very dog#" by some day--maybe wh@8too late. Ah %die TEMPORARILY! Buselastic]o?ath can4e8Aresssqto one {rained shap*46Tom_&drift insensiblyJXZconcern"is7|.T cack, nowmed mysteriously? aaway--A'so3 ?countries beyoBseasQcame S! How 2she{ then! The idea of beQ recu,mto fill himdisgust. For frivolyR jokewStight"anAsy intrude`/1 upbspiritwas exalt3vague august AEthe romantic. Nota soldi<,"yell war-woraillust. No--bette4ld#joIndians,unt buffalo$$gowawarpatr4x2S rang-the trackgreat plaite Far W 0QfuturM+A q, brist2with feathers, hidej$ith pain,bprance. ,(QrowsyN $er|a bloodcurdssar-whoose eyeballaG unappeasu envy. But noOb gaudin than thi/dpirateas it! NOWK2lay~ #"im"glaimaginsplendor. HowMHQould c people shudder1glo(AS go p{Sthe d2seaf"hiu,1, l'qlack-hu 2racZ02e SsFc StormHIisly flag flyA fore! And at the zenith ofQfame,suddenlyDIold village8Cstalcb, broww-beaten, black velvet d ArunkCjack-bootcrimson sash,AbeltJ"horse-pistol9e-rusted cutlass atCAsideM2 sl4("atTwaving plumeIcunfurledthe skull Abone*  Bhear[2sweobecstas>$G #s,3TomJ, P--the Black Avengerpanish Main!"  j,d Acare's determined)2runfrom hom Renter' /\.2theDnext[ Afore rust now+1 to&Wreadybcollecresources %)Aent rotten log nv%'an2digu 5 onFihis Barlow knif1oonrck wood ed hollow"puusand uttwis incan~,i8 dively:bhasn'tDhereovW!st 2re!^rbcraped`"ir Q expo pine sh9:i8and dis(chapely,2 trcH-[5hos'and sides wer/ds'iHra marbl 's astonishmenboundless! He scratc Ss hea a perplexed air7RWell,1bea*y> +Btoss5pettishlyStood cogitatUsuth wasfa Mqhad fai91and0-Brade0AlookR$on as infallibl byou bu OLcertain necessarylsBleft  fortnigh'BCopenCplac"8theP" h ajust uh3yout%a1s2had1los.  t0 H,9 |&Qno ma how widely+}Qk"w,~ bctuallunquestionably *-DtrucF2faiQ shak"-Q its Bs. H"Cmany C Rasuccee3but{aof itsBing :Q occu2himtit several timesC, himself,n;1e h*-scs2warvpuzzledy!an\decided $Qwitchainterf Bharmhought he tsatisfy at point; soe!ar<1he Csand aqfunnel-Qd depo!itJ9=$ F2 toyG and called-- "Doodle-bug, d $'#mev0Wgknow! 5 5*! sn1egaBwork"3bug e a secon2darted um)fright. "He dtell! So it WAS aAdonef !I ;%!knv5'"HeDknew2 iQof tr to contens#chahe gav^"Ś$ag%iT`he might asAhave>  w1 ,Oatheref@Btwicl.last repe2wasRssful$0Qs layU1foo Qeach a. Jus^%ebYntoy tin trumpet 3faintly dow%green aisle~QorestWoff his jacke|trousers,$ a suspe9belt, rakN Tbrush 4thelSlog, 8 n rude bow1arr| lath sword4in A7$Bseizse thingSbound, barelegg 1 fls "AhirtL7halfelm, blew an answ@9atiptoelook warily outk1way2thasaid cautp--to an }!ryH!an Hold, my merry men! K;BI bl06Nowf>q, as aiAcladbelaborarmed as Tom. Tom]Hold! Who s7ASher BFore_qhout my+q?" "GuGuisborneVAan's).^1art-L--" "Dar  hold such language=Tom, prompting--fo8y talked "se book," qmemory.l ~/ dsI*! I am Robin Hoodkthy caitiff carcas:Ahall%." "ThenRindee% famous outlaw? Rvgladly will I dispute#2the=Fpass3wood. Have aeyGWtheirqs, dump4eir.Brapsf e ground, struck a fencttitude,!to61kBv) reful combat, "two up andfdown."p!E Tom aNow, i a've goQ hang=Ait lM!61y "a," panhK !er k. By and bhouted: "Fall!K8! W`+ sha'n't"Nrself? Y(AAwors!it/4Whyh M@!'tv;A#ay it is inVbook says, ' Qone boa[stroke he slew poor $.'!toNr ,ame hit oQ." T#>PFuthoriti 1Joebed, received!whE@nd fell.&"4U Joe,^up, "you8o(N2 ki1*Ffair{f!docE_/ell, it's blameC's aQBsay, you can be Friar Tuck or MucAmillD[ss%R lam M h a quarter-staff; or I'll bSheriff of NottinghamJe w9h?Bill 0AThis a@#soadventures were cr4FATheni!beB6 L!wa- !by treacherous nun to ble s strength away 1ughneglected w- 4And/}! r 1entAtribAweepOC4s, R|Qhim sbforth,V m"ow(his feeble hands", e" Q fallTere buryuu 1eenqtree." She shT$ b&would have diedQhe li>+Aa ne0and sprang upMAaily a corpse.->dA, hi!ira!Gutre Ooff grieao <$noz4u3mor Bwond what modern civiliz= claim to h Qensatiloss. They;F-rather be year in than Presiden the United States 0 CHAPTER IX AT half-past nine!ToB Sid\1senm"be[usualir prayer=(onqK Aawak waited, in rest"imc<{it seem0q be nearly dayldhAlock;Bke taqdespair&and fidge#asrves demQ, buttbas afr+aSid. S12lay,%!st"upJark. EverLDsdismall<2C by,'YSness,a, scarceo[fnoisesemphasizeSC ticking aHh Ato b!itS-A1. O+"&ame! cT(!cstairs creakently. Ev1ly 6 !ts abroad. A m#Rd, mu(snore issued Aunt Polly's chamberA now4tiresome chirqf a cri!thA human ingenuity locate,JQ. NexV ghastly?SdeathwatcDwall bed's head made E--it#abody'sMPnumberedUBhowl{far-off dog roseg 3wasAa fa<K a$r O./an agony. At ih| 1ied+had ceas@d eternity begun;00 to doze$Aspit2e)chimed elevenl0A;#%8me, mingl Ahis !formed dreams, a most ' caterwaulwA raix&of a neighbo)awindow81urbSqm. A cra"Scat! devil!" aQ cras<an empty bo;z}ais aunt'sCSshed T#"dea single minute laterlGand jr$al,Sroof 3"ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" withn once orpn jumped  g3]*QL. Huckleberry Finn washis dead cat #ysAW1off\A,#edO#a gloom%thh," (all grass4graveyard. It &old-fashioned#ern kind13on a hill,5Da miK'Eaillage<1hadazy board fencet $itcAlean 1warY1outek$th!buZod upright nos1. G n!ed!ew rank M ? cemetery. A2old*spsunken in,Mnot a tombston!; {-worm-eaten qs stagg#Rover $ aves, leanaor suppor 1finnone. "Sacred) of" So-and-Soabeen pdm#="ittLR have7Sread,5am, now*1n i3 r7lFA wind mo $reSTom ft {\, complai(#atw(x\<R6nly ir breath6[ -Solemn(Q silew&ppX $irvyo! t arp new hea1yk1eek6ansconcQemsel2ithq protec0ree great elms$grew in a bunch?-WDfeet " "y U  42for H "a 1imeS hoot abant ow.]"btroubl !ne om's refld1ive%.aforce Dtalk) Qsaid $: "Hucky, do&ɘ6 ead peopleGZ3 usDqhere?" Zed: "I wisht I@eEQ's aw3Zs, AIN'T36Q"I beAis."ea considerable pau*"il\Scanva "#iss inward! n_ %ASay,3y-- reckon Hoss WilliamssI1#O'Q he does. Least8rsperrit"7, +a+2 I' #u MisterxI`  Aany l DQs him#A "n'Foo partic'lar1(tXalk 'boutase-yer  Ra damnd convers3die!. Qw Ahis comrade's armE1sai:Sh!" "What is it~$?"i nc%Atogeq!be#2ts.K C'tis again! z1you+{0Q! Now"OALordTHcoming! TQ, surmat'll we do/I dono. Thiny'll see us!'OhbA can!in^ Qdark,M as cats. ihadn't comecOh, doay!. Aliev<1bus. We(a doingl If we keep perfectlyR, may1y waB us N$I'll try toRbut, Y1I'mbBof a shiverListen!"be1!ir s e tof voices float% 4far`(A "Look! Se;Fre!"M  w-fire. Cis it." Somv/1figaapproaK'!Rloom,M tin lanternaTfrecka  innumerable spanglek  K#a d!t' sya. ThrexA'em!yQwe'reqrs! CanBprayNB:BThey! gto hurt us. 'Now I5#meo sleep, I--'"8 AHuckHUMANS! On! iWyway.'s old Muff Potter's }aNo--'tqu so, is AjDYyou stir nor budgBCharpfE to q. DrunkBausual,Cly--qold ripAAll O !, 4stiI5tstuck. Can'"1Herq#Dy coN.[8hot. Col2B Hot. Red hot!'re p'inted?r ,q"!o'qs; it's Injun Jo(2ThaFD--that mur!' breed! I'd druthe Zdevils a der'>!. ky be up t4The.| Dnow,! t 1men $re!e 1     ' hiding- Q. "H?9Dt is Qhird ;\*:wner of it hel TTreveaV1fac young Docts_`1carryingYcbarrowTA rop a coupldshovels onCcast#lo=!c2opeUF7" d1putd|_R56karH2ack1st fX2elm  Q closIhave tou1himurry, men!" !idTa low"#on91com at any moaRJy growled a responsgan digg'Fo(*2 no# b<"gr s)Qspadetbchargiir freighw Amouldl7 was very monotonous. FinaX Q upongScoffia dull wood*<2entO4'Ror twyRhoist'dg>Sy pritd!$irB, goB!dyF!Qit ru - `Tdriftg?Rcloud(0allid faN4he P!as3reaaorpse "it, coverea blanke>buCope.l(out a large spring-knifkcn;#da3z Tthen " Nm$cu Bng's, Sawboned you'll*"ou$ Afive\$ s?y alk!" sai.] BdoesSmean?3te. "You require3r p?Sdvanc(I've pai#'4B don(B tha ,; r Q, who Dnow @*q. "FiveBs agqdrove my q your fX's kitchen, when Ito ask f@(c to eaK3youWa warn'!!re2any goodWswore I'd get,AzQyou iuaa hundcgears, RAme j1 for a vagrant. Dta thinkiqforget?I^Sbloodq Ain m1 no.2nowvGOT yougot to SETTLE"r!" He EQreate<,e !isy Bace,n!2is  Tq8E1retacuffian dropped his !exDCHered #hi^(&rd~b next ! h-t grapplF "wo)Rstrug'and main, trampl% gFtear@3'rheels. !JoaAfeeta81 ey2%am!pa1nQ, snaQ3 up'/V"cr"Q, catYEAtoopCand  w'Tants,Q an oCunitwat onceQ,d free,62Aeavy5 of'n fҲt(Rearth"it8? c YiL A sawXCchanSj2theb1hilthe young man's breas+Qreele4BGqpartly , floodi  l* `ablotteXAreadcpectacf1 Bened Aspee!awHdark%> remergedO , '8two formsPRtempl }aamurmurulately, gw*gasp or two%2wasKm- rTHAT sc; :Q--damF0Rrobbe8body. After h9the fatal2in r's open R hand M dismantled } --four--fivss passeJ7.mB za1. H1nd dw#; C Q, gla!atand let it falla>g)sat up, push2bodA himLJ gaz]aK&confusedlymet Joe's1rd,ie, Joe?u .a:ay busi%#2Joeout moving.d]d+[%I!!it{] 3! TRT 3alkdewash."YAtremDI ew white.1ghtagot so"!I'BM!r!o-@it's in m* yet--worse'nw= rted here.vmuddle; c!$re=#an$gQ, harqTell me}--HONEST`Aold ar--didB it?zJ(qto--'poAsoulhonor, I nevt1ant5Joezc#Oh$+Qhim s, ad prom! -1youC?ay1inga he fe6G ) Bflat !up:3comX1reeX[ding li!.Ajammz%.5 'asE you7S clip ere you've lai'!as a wedge til nowbd{Uwawas a- I may die1if B1all on accou(bwhiskevV!axcitem"I .uC$ weepon Clife: fUO_;uAy'llsay that.( V8ray you Atelle--that's a  4. I_2lik</U !upE { etoo. D remember? You WON'Tc]a, WILL  A/ApoorS'Eture o SkneesUrstolid G#alaspedQappeaa,.)4'veA #fanbsquarej 8me,N# I<#go$n :MsXs a man can sayIy0an angel.bQ*1you^!he0est day I live.> ?Ccry.d 40$#isc 1anyYsQblubb. You be off yonder wa!go+T. Mov 3and5!leny tracksX"onM(quickly increaseQa run  &)He8 If he's as much stunne Q lickfL2rum2 halook of bel#he1eBtillzgone so far he'll be +}-e\!it:Ruch a>% b= --chicken-hear1TwoO tqs laterD0Rd manv ArpseA lid 2the ?+urno insp8!b moon' ness was completet 9too-X THE two Aflewqnd on, towarkaspeechwith horror*y Aback;%?aulders|!to, apprehens95'$yA$m &be followed. EVastump #up'Air p9&.'and an enemyw[+athem c+:bbreath"as"by"Aoutlacottag41yy.=21ark1*aroused +H-dogRagive wq:qir feet Af weqonly ge=ld tannery!wegk down!" whisp&1Tom|<Qtween5dths. "4AstanRmuch ]&ucC)'s hard pantAwere-1repboys fixed sSeyes z 1goaDBhope"4benir work to win it. ained steadily]1st,sIy burst open doo cgratef BexhaIiBshel, shadows beyond. Beir pulses s4Tomac2 2'lli!BIf D dies, I61 hav>!it?D m !?" y, I KNOW 1Tom#om&2t a$JEn he #1Whosell? WePBat aj  ing about? S'pos%!th1appEand q DIDN'T!? he'd kill usLvoO:  sure as *g <@  ~o myself, HuW8q"If anyAtell)t 3, i)Cfool. He's generTdrunky%U !--2 E s C "itrN!ca#teJ:#sQreaso 8QBecau>&"'d1geSwhack"F. D'3 he*5seeT?$ \7!" "By hoke:$'s-!" "And besides, look-a-here--maybeqfor HIM<No, 'taint likely ^GQliquo5ghim; I#th  |h Rhas. 9pap's full Atake/belt him&3hea< a church)2youn't phase 1say his own selfZ)i3sam !C, of(Fqf a manjJGoberZ W&)dono." .*$ve*p)2you"an!1mumw%to.*  #atadevil 5Rn't myQy morWdrownding us&a Acats!weto squea(iF+"ha!. X>u, less swear to one/Z"weveo do--0qkeep mu"greed. I Xkb. WoulGAholds_Un we--" "Oh no @! dA thi . for little rubbishy commokngs--speciwith gals, cuz THEY!c anywa ablab i: huff--but!or%^e writing Ra big BClood2's m0 applauduis ideao1BdeepAdark  t;1our3 circumstances1surRings, ijbe pick'ya cleaniOlvAmoon', took ar fragmes"red keel"7 f 1pocDkK1 onV#wo0fully scra!'these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clam~7his tongue AeethRQ lettpApres QCe upW&s. [See next page.] "Huck Finn and Tom SawyersCs!ndI+Awish may Dropd!ea6 QTheirT"if33eve1ellX!Ro  p5filKadmiration of~acility inA, an sublimityQlangu3HC'4pinqs lapelH6was(Qprick,QfleshWN Hold on!!dob. A pi1assA8have verdigre#n Qp'iso$/ swaller somic --you,a." SoSunwou8bthread"%his needl!Aboy  1e b.QthumbcsqueezBa drfA. In,{Dmany2!s,amanage2sig!Qiniti9u~8Hthe ~ finger fo/e3ashowed  1ph"! HQan F, 1ath%2bur9!e 1le q5 to:,dismal ceremoniaincantfqfettersJ$ b#ir8consider(Qbe loF"keArwn away4!ig[AreptURlthil(!ugX$Dreak[Wother#A ruiEAuild2nowLQQ*iVTom,"6, "#uYAEVERf ing --ALWAYS?" "O r it doe]cdon't y difference WHATv xY got J BWe'd"--Q6YOUe Ywts rcontinuHtime a dog set up a long, lugubrious<outside--within tenc*md boys q",qan agon+!.ich of us^4 he;%!ga4 dono--peep througw crack. Quick 1YOU#-- 1 DO#Hu2aPlease1 72h, lordy0thankful0I2his)4 Bull Harb`" * [* If Mr. y+d a slave named Bullk spoken of him as "Dl!,"aa son 2dog!atZn"]   1--I" ( most scadI'd a betmM a STRAY dog he dog howledv~W'3Ats s:"nc&.2my!%!no'I IA "DOM! Q, quabAwith? !Z%eytrDHis z"waly audible"Ohr, IT S A1DOG1, qK Who7Amust3 us both--Uright"5.+vgoners.EU1misM   V< I'LL go to. I been so wM m2Dad_1Thites of p1$oo!do BveryD a's told Ndpaxgood, like SidNr tried !noaever I 2off time, I lay I'lWALLER if"s!7Tom0"nx4( . "YOU bad!"7Q"Cons!it ^ ld pie, 'longside o' BI amTLORDY 9 only had half your chanceom chokeds6andh: "LookyA! He?9BACK to us(ucky looked!joh "hil9he has, by jingoes! DFRbefor.bhe didpIS#l,e"!this bully, y. NOW whowing stopped. Tom !up ears. "Sh! k BthatI#0!ed"Qounds--like hogs grunting. No--it'!!snC mqThat ISkWAbout"it8I bleeve3Uat 't| #. Bso, a. Pap rRto sl{Aere, Stimesv t$"gs laws bless<1he Rlifts1s'HE snores. Buhever comOto5own{hXEdventure rfZsouls`/Qdas't`o if I leadR 1to,2, s~ts quailep_7the temp up strong:7 3oys#ryJAnder{2ing'7 @#to@Sheels Se !y 4btiptoe  , 4oneJ CthervJ~4hadlqwithin 'qsteps o|!er'pBstic  it brokera sharp snap.man moan]erithedp his face came inK . It was"ha+rd still\|C too)Aved, )Dfear|(? A nowlypid out, n weather-boar& $-%at2 di# sQa paraword. J qrose on5'B air!w1tur n+!th-2ang  Ua fewQ Xt.Awas $cFACING7nose poi* heavenward! geeminy,VHIM!".A botds a!--say a stray dog3ai Johnny Miller's house,A mid2,!#as.eks ago;6 ppoorwill=1 in4litbanisterZ2ung|aame ev?0U L#B}!yej W"ndyE#se 2. D&cGracieT falls2Afirebcrself terr next Saturd;#Ye@sBDEADwhat's moche's gbetter, too:you waitbsee. Ss# ,Cure  z,)a niggers sN:2all *h<7c,dWBSihis bedroom Kh"al Apent3$ss]$excessive cautionCfelliP congratuP.2himMRCknew escapaden1was _Raware3the gently-Qas awake$Y bv5. eawoke,=1andCrak$q ! ig# lAsens&the atmosp+HA%##Wh% ae not called--persecuted till As upRusualK4  KLtW.%Nairs, feelowadrowsyr family R at tԌ!bu finishedQkfastAI"no of rebuk)Nwere averted eyes;:!anA'ofCHthat struck a chillhe culprit' s He sat "nd &reem gay2it -Nwork; it E$no smile, no; he lapsed "leyheart sin'$tdepths.HNN"idG bbened ir3hop>g2Gflogged;Tianot so aunt wept overxand ask*m-E !gobreak her[!o;rfinally3him o{"ru&3andRher gray hair '1 so=~ '?2 usZ hT: try any more.Z!waCan a thous"ppgaA was sorer nQ:"anL1odycried, he pleaded for forgiveTpromised to reforh 2andj {.[jdismissal, !!he_1wonan imperfec51cestablut a feeblfidence. He lefk  Ro misC vAl ren4ful(2Sids 2 laB prompt retre back gat unnecessar_!mo^o school O%3sad41ook+}hqJoe HarHDwondered i-!ha!ic%nir mutuala<Abody2Dtalk r intentlthe grisly "them. "Poor fellow!" 9T+Cught a)Son toG@=grs!" "T2'll) iy catch him!" This ift of remark"milB, "IzQa jud';=frNow Tom shivxAfromA to heel; >D stooG3 of+3JoeZ$isB12beg}s6Bbe, andas shoute!'s  Aim! 7com!!"U!o? Who?"ctwentyT8. }1QHallo0s1!--=3out!tuM{&Am gey!" PeoplCrees over\'Aheadrrn't tryYB--he4doubtful and perplexed. "Infernal impu "!"aAa by~er; "wanosand take a quiet$aFwork12--dQexpec 263any=part, now u- b, oste%Ausly]3ingC" btAarm.;pa's facw haggar &the fear tha .W bstood 1urdman, he shook ara palsy4bface iNBhand@ QburstJa tears P!do#friends,&sobbed; "'pon my pThonor> z0iho's accTyou?"F" aYicarry home.xCliftme1and3ed ` thetic hopelessnes5sw!:"*Q, youaaised m/"'dD."Is ?V i4himM#. msiy anot ca=1easmhe groundn-*BSome!1tol"'tEM8Ond get--"-1hud Qn wavr4f2les` ra vanquSgestus?"Tell 'em, Joewv'em--itl0n,1tooMbEstar`#he  2-he8 liar reel offrene sta?_# FaFlear skydeliver God's Eningmp]f1seeAroke3tdelayedr JJ3illBaliv'!iraimpulsx  BoathE!avubetrayed prisonerafe fad d 5wayBinlySmiscreant1solrto Sata.#itIbe fatalReddle]~ Rroper-1sucQower - a"$hyyou leave?"DwoC|d Qfor?"ab BsaidRn't help it--$,"amoanedx:2 ru+ ?1see} 3but he fell to5. d repea)BjustZSlmly,minutes after inquest,=Foath 1seeCwerewithheld1q 1rme20qbbeliefH1Joej h Aevilw become,Bm most balefully interes1hadDA , yB not+ M  bey inwu(bresolv w= nights,d#1L should offer,Ih%ofPa glimpshis dread  3hel2rai !of[NRput ia wagone rremovalQwhisp3 Q 2ingv  l0!blqlittle!; Dboys&tXappy Tturn n$wBtheyQdisap "ed1morEn onarked: !three feet of . 7it O AfearL1ecrx+ad gnawonscienc /iqs sleepvAas ms a weekG1at Afast_~3Tom/' !alCyourx1so t3youp8!e B hal9"ti^rTom blaband dr"c H's a bad sign, Aunt Polly,*dly. "WzRgot oB min_d?" "NQ % '[Aof."k23oy'shook soaQhe spcoffee. "An 2 doTustuff,"Ur. "Last said, 'It's 2" t it is!' Y7Aoverover. And y!, 'Don't tor6me so--I'll-"!'S5CWHATQis it$V?" E+  1Tom( re is no\2ing*+ Qhappe\1BluckF2cern passedm7S's fas3 torwithout kno.!it" Aho! W3ful1. Im!ity4 my24Q3its7  S%Lqfound a-Sightypr itself . Becky Thatcherd"st #tolMT had EQhis pia few day<'"whistle her dow+!,"1fai)&HeTfind `"ha her father's Lqand feeI%< was ill.rif she p2 diP)9a3`qno longbdok an `@tar, norq piracy charm of lifCgoneMadreari2lef}hoop away,#Bat; $!wa 3joym3 His aunt "ed& 'rll mannqremedieS2him06wasRose prwho are infatuqwith pamedicinea-fanglWthods of produc2 or mend:an inveterate experimA3 in-s. When sRfresh'cis lin Sout s!in'k{2it;Kn herselfp?iling, bu/!el"at Whandy subscribert-!ll#!"H" periodicalNphrenological frauds olemn ignorance %B inf#1was^th)strils. A "rot" they cont about ventilR !ow$odRet upj/Ro eat$Cdrinl42howQexercI 2 22frag?!onTDelf *.1sor#clto wear,&all gospeӲs=aver obser!ha! h-journalscurrent month customarily upseXhad recommenO <Rbefor21s simple aonest e 1was+5 soan easy vict!gaQ$d <]quackydthus arm:'bdeath, .9 pale horse, metaphorici 1spe> "hell foll"Qsuspe `aot an &1 of[$$1balQGilea6 disguise&he) neighbors.n!wa6 creatmee3new/,low cond|)f$e!haRaat dayN*,bhim upehi}!wn mBqa delug Bcoldn she scrubb3a towel liki7Aso b?t him tona*Bhim Aa wemqblankets 1Aweatas soulw1 "the yellow stainsiV a his pores"--as7!Ye rwithstabAhis,boy grew morh  melancholyp!ej|added hot baths, sitz hFClung,A boyX#"inbdismalShearsRassisslim oatmeal dizbr-plastersb calcuhis capacitn)Hould a jug'sfSevery day}3cure-all-#om come indifferQ32ionn!!isfW_0cphase r1the1Tlady'L,constern;ice must b9!upny cost. Now?of Pain-killthe first a She otd a lot)Ua tasteD 3as with gratitud'Rimply7in a liqui0 J  {2and&P3els2!piZO iA gav a teaspoon# 6Xeepest anxietB,qe resul &r mstantly at rest,Zat peace again; for""?broken up` #bo+1hav!#wn a wilder,i , built arunder him.3feli.to wake up;-Klife might be romantic enough, iQblighy, , c1getyD tooiAsent "oo  %ng it. So heat over%!ouC!nsd ,X1finchit poO fo+n# 4Qfor in4ofthe became a nuisanch Rby teeZT help'2Aquit)q >Ieqen Sid,had no misgivto alloy!dePEsinc&3TomMF bottle clandp#el (" !rebdiminish" !itW Cccura t5was t!ltIta crack !siG-room floorit. One day athe ac 3dos  Sy"#'su$ c along, pur#eA(%heHR avar.lqbegginga({said: "Don't askit unlessAwant&Peter." But s1ifi# W2. "You better make suh$?ure. "Now you'v( give it to you, because E $ #m"mebiEQyou d,mustn't bl8Ebut your W agreeableEH mouth open)Voured.Sprang a couple of y+Aair,LSthen %ed a war-whoopsL!f & the room, b st furniture,/ flower-pom*  }Z havoc. NextiRose o}"hi6,#pr ja frenzy of enjoyment,<2his,F !jL proclaimingunappeasrhappines % Atear ?ahouse a spreaQchaos>destruct! Gath.U!edDime r&!im/w$double summersets, 2naly hurrah,AsailG1ughVt, carryK1res^Gthe ZGm. T  Bpetr astonish2 peer glasses;Alay ;qor expiaKRlaugh?#"on earth ails@Tcat?"N'u, aunt,"O. "Why,+i!diaact sogcDeed IWknow,e; catsq6kthey're having c A" "$ado, dof'?"Btonemade TombD1es'at is, I belie<(2y dAaYou DO1-  Qdown,n 3ingwAinte>emphasized by{ R. Too?@!viAer "f.R handthe telltale 1visC ed-valanceUi ald it tom winc 9yesBAraism Qe usuandle--5"ar.csoundlj %DimblS, sir (1tre"at)dumb beast so #pi Thim--Zd!nyj." "H!--you numskuhQat goAdH" iqHeaps. BRbif he'?Qone sqa burntF4out2! S2 ro 0QowelsX!of3'w"n,PBthanra human!" Z!fe: sudden pang6o1Thi1 pu yhl |6 ruelty to a cat MIGHT beboy, too  soften; 2sor=r0',I Rshe p<'3 onDheadd gently)'qmeaning -!stQ. And , it DID d !-&om)" i Bfacejust a percepttwinkle peepinggravity. "/!haf Q%ton-B? Ye*BforcX," adR: he 1lea!if!cr`wqno choi("By` `h2farFMeadow Lan,t !ll to "take up" t, Qd fai#up"eaG;, !Fink %,Bhear old familia!nd rmore--i Bhard0v$ou<ld worldc]submit--b A for1theQ sobs.a thick@O1 JW  2poi7m_'s sworn T , Joe Harper --hard-eyCwithD5tlyand dismal purp=Srt. P 9b were "two(but a singl&" Tom, wi 9#ye1fleeve,qblubberBsome about a 6p to escape from hard usag1lacsympathy at= by roamBbroaOFto return"3by  Athatm=1not"m.it transpir was a reques !chK2hadKRbeen  nIkN3#a)1hun1 up_. His mo ad whippfor drin ScreamhX  d knew ;*1plaUtCwishto go; if.<!waXpl but succumb2opebe happy0a regretDing ;"erW1boyxA $un) ddie. As=wEwalk gClong7 +compact to u 8 byePQthersqseparate till death rgm2 ikyj3lay.:tplans. "Qfor b2;a hermitC1livb qn crustJa remote cav1 dy O a#rand wannRgriefQ% m31to 1he U S&a4~_conspicuous advantages1 a "so ansente!pi Three miles below St.easburg,|!wthe Mississippi Riv "a OaWQ wide"a !qnarrow,%ed islanS \6$2bare  o"d well as a rendezvous%1 in2!edrlay farQtowarL her shore, abrvba densk{Twholly un o1estJackson's IC chosen. Whon!*aubject%Qiracis a matted2 ]Ay hu(up}R Finn8 JmRqly, for rcareersho hhe was$jy,75tlykmtu#!ne;I$ot]river-bank two,vn1favorite hour--4\csmall log rafIthey meanLLd. EachJr,2ookl6)such provisiA4d steal amost dnd myste!way--as bec +butlaws_:Rbefordaftern2donCy."agsweet glory of b~h12ttythe towne"hear ." All whohis vague hint!!cas"be mumTqit." AD Tom@a boiled ha9c a fewKs 1%ingrowth onQbluffMthe meeting-8VstarlBveryAMT lay Qoceanl3Tom6ed Qbut n3 m Q>the quietenN!ve%w, distinc$ 6stlAansw 1bd twic; these sig, K&e ;bThen af5ed voice!We!reTom SawyK^he Black Avenger Spanish Main. Name your namesuck FinnERed-Handed VTerro]2easw BBfurnq rtitles,56hisIliteraturA'TisEC. Gicountersignwo hoarse whispers !e Hawful word simultaneJ"torrooding<: "BLOOD!" 2Tom6 sQUC4Cdown@qit, teaboth skin1F/!es~ome extenXB'BfforF {., comfortable path (Bit l8the!of pCicul8!da/rso valu[&  b d4bac3had Tworn 2outy'"it $.gstolen a sg* ntity of half-c#leaf tobaccol- corn-cob 3pip/.3An3e s smoked or "chewed"A saik !do2tar"z)J ! w1hought; m]ahardly'@Z"reaat dayqy saw aWa smoulJgG1a hWd$3aboy qwent stc'@ 5andjErhemselvsa chunk Rn impR'adventurLbit, sa r"Hist!"[A nowT2theV suddenly halt!fion lip; movM on imaginary dagger-hilt4!gi1orders inX"ifj/Dfoe"cc, to "%W)'K dilt," " "dead men tell no taleWhey knew2 en< raftsmen 3allQ lC in stores or haae2{]D exc^ aconduc` /1 un"AicalAOPved off, ,iEmx CHuckJ1oar!Jo=D qorward.>stood amidships,T-browwith folded arm/7hisTstern_: "LuffDbI"wind!" "Aye-aye, siraSteadyNAady-f it is/!Le!t go off 1P 0Aboys 2dilcly droGd mid-stream vno doubtET"gonly for "style,O! t!to E any&particular&a?"l'?1 '?" "Courses, tops'lflying-jib?"Se  r'yals up! La[Saloft,$! a dozen of ye --foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now1hak\/maintogala@RSheet braces! NOW my heartiesWHellum-a-leeKTrt! SX2wJ4comes! Port, 1NOW, men! With a will!  T\ drew beyoc7mid#&   ed her head7?then lay oi)Hnot high, s  B notathan aEor t=C82. Ha Awas j!duthe next;-quarter ran hour2t1wasGing BdistXwn. Taglimmenlights showed rit lay,1 "sl#,j vast sweep ofAa-gemmed water,the tremendous ev:4!ha happening. 7 7" his last"-Q Ascen!hirmer joy06ter8wishing "she"2rsee himuQabroathe wild sea,~ng periladeath Qdauntj%, his doom| a grim so/rlips. I,!bu mall strain'0R,!to&vet Island 6aeyeshoN'Cthe ["edZ!a vnqsatisfi\a' p last, to q3so I y came near let#e \Q drif)m\ArangQthe i< oediscov "j !inF%qmade sh\o avert it. About'clock ip1morU'Agrout+1bar8 B thewaded backzforth until Ahad 2"d ffreight. ParRlittl|'ngings consist an old sail"isgaspreadIr a nook ce bush$1a tbo shel6eir"s u TsleepVqopen aiDgoodq., .!y6/sk J log twentyirty stepk  sombre depth 4estDen cme bacon1fryb!anI1suprgAand fY"upcorn "pone" stockw4had;seemed glorious sporuAfeas%at wild, freee virginunexplor%5 un CR, far61 2aunm Ba returcivilizations a climbO&!ir3 up6Bfacethrew its ruddy glare the pillared tree-trunk$irbtemple?X aDfoli>afestoovines. W'!he crisp slice of ""on,qallowan* pone devou Bstre'3outt grass,Q;contentmenyBhave3" a coolecZ Qthey 9dena romantic feaZ 2 roh camp-fi2AIN'T it gay?" !JoIt's NUTS!Tom. "WhathHA Aay ikasee us Say? WellB y'd just die to b&be--hey y I reckon so, 2; "͉s, I'm suited. M/u't want"better'n$Aever@#Cgen'ally--and > Rcan'tXband pikAa fe<Z qullyragDso."HAthe dfor meXY6!toCup, y(!ch{"sh 'at blame foolish5uYou see 3do ANYTHING, Joe, ) aa[hermit HE haRbe pr0dxm# t0naany fuyyGUll by&tt!ayPAOh y What's \ "but I hadn't thought muchFqit, youT. I'd-deal rather b mq I've tN(!itC3, "'"go}#onsQ!adQlike ^^Ato is`Ce's M'respectedr2 a Q's goWhhardest 6Ican finput sackYa 3hea)s<=$1raiAd--"5at does he put V for?" inquireZ0Fdono s've GOTV.6rmi5!do2:1do 3/5wasDern'd if Iww'v?an't do%`#WhY:'d HAVE toP'N0!itY6I3n'tv"it2run.S" "R "! you WOULDnld slouc<0be a disgrace U no respon*ecemploy)chad fiqgouging Qa cobQ now A"tt:e', loaded it) was pressing Qal toRchargAblow! cloud of fragrant smokj&iMfull bloomp-1uxu   ) envied himW majestic vicM secretly &vqacquire?hortly. 0AHuck:Q1pirT?E+,"Oh^#n1a batime--(b 2hem3get "nebury it in ?6#ir $ w!re's ghost Fings]i kill everybod --make 'em walk a plankSA y!wo "q Joe; "YAkill5RsNo," asT## 2g--they're too noble}Tbeautiful, too.Awear[bulliest }es! Oh no! All goldsilver and di'mondswith enthusiasm#o? !hy#B." o"caDbis own orlornly I ain't dressed. h"a &ful pathoH=;Z#go3!bu1$sex@Ftoys tolbe fine#escome fast,a h0Sbegun <W^2him!^2his'4rags}Qbegin,l(Lqy for wy  a proper wardrobe. Gradu5talk diedk ;vwsiness6'[z t eyelidm fBwaifF pip3ub9U (Drhe slep qcience-aR wearL ta} 3 :J%in . 1saiYayers inwardlya, sinc Dith authority them kneeXQrecitC1ud;h"ru2d a0!no$s(1m a,,were afrro proceU lengths asS, les:might call2 a dspecial thAbolt3 c6cn at o Qy rea1ando7'reimminent verge of O.an intruder( ,: not "down." F ,4e>41egafe$fWhad been doing wroD -#eytb. 3meaAthen!rezr^CcameY to argue it away by remindingzhad purloined1tme@nd applesfAs ofKB C!thin plausibilities;E!m,che end? R!ar%the stubborn&"ta-was only "hooking,"F6,O"am@valuableCplain simpleSing--Oa command againaMi"Sov  5hat;a4 "bub", )U2not~Q be sd.!thl}Ume of.3$ e؍uP Lc 39]dstent # Hfell CHAPTER XIV WHENCawok!, he wond% he was. He sat5Q rubb Rs eye'ny"omBd#ool gray dawT#ya%-8of reposKdeep pervading calmGBsilewoods. Not a leaf r!!; ! s!ob|great Nature's medit!Bedewdrops W 2upowCleavQgrassBQ whitY!xcPathe fi,Dblue3werK|some hand$r it laydst to (/Bdit by a narrow channel hardlybhundred yards widetook a swim | hour, so i the midd#thEnoon2Yy got6ptoo hungrRtop tdthey fared sumptu"ha-%themselves $balk. B_S soontto drag!en6} 2itybrooded pG! s of loneliFsFtellUaspirit1oysy!toking. A sorQundef,e creptWmVdim shape'6#--budding homesick'Even Finq Red-Ha.was drea doorsteps\empty hogsheads~all ashame",1weayC none was brave to speak &a. For A Aboysbeen dullyM!ouna peculiar A ,2"sometimes i>2!ic"ofZ##ckAk"ke6>!no' #(isAA1 befpronouY!fo a recogn72 st a glanc4 \aassume1ist23 atfR Thera ,R, pro_band unK1;Yqa deep,ren boomK floating downDn.#is it!" exclaimed Joe,S. "I [!2Tomi whisper. "'T@!8thu+@Dan awed tone, "becuz4'bHark!")qTom. "L7q--don't\#."2wai% 4hatSan agV] ame muffled boom trouble$| hush. "Le(5seevBspraVAfeet%"hu_ MjS1ownp1y pCy u(1ankM!pe2out+2ated 9!steam ferryboakTabout1bel' v,3Aing @, urrent. Her T deckMScrowd b*<!re^# amany skiffs ,T&oru9 neighborhooBcoul{determine what em&!jeSwhitedburst z E's sKas it expSand rNa lazy cloud, tAsames Cb ofz1orn steners again{ 9now Tom; "somebody's drownded!`HGHuck&*last summer,\Bill Turner gotVvy shoot a cannon ov$at makes him comRdtop. Ytake loavBbreaRAput &q in 'em2set Tyr,anybody!!, L'1ll =9i #!op'I've heardDthatUJoe. qread dolR!Oh)](Ld, so muchW&it's mostly v 72SAYib it ou%. "y >6say<iqHuck. "p r@O1XWfunny. "But mayb!sa)E . Of COURSEb do. A1$<Tboys agre=AQreaso(1TomF,@% a!uat lump3Buninfeescaped, unawaR.Bby Joe timidly H1&ra roundB"feeler"3o hI rothers  # aa ;D--no[_but-- Tom!er derision!, uncommit s yet, join"Towaverer quickly "ex)#ed 1wasTT g f<ascrape4 as#tachicken-hearted a cling-o his garme"!s z&uld. MutinybeffectV/1laid$qrest fo{s moment."heMQened,&#no&H to snoreTQ foll13nexc#laG)lbow motioq,>V %@1twosntly. AT he got up cautiously,7CkneeZ#BsearQ<the flickerflections flung%!he"*!piJ !upDed several| semi-cylinder:3hinAbark%t sycamo)1finchose two whichto suit himin #3lt #fi&ly wroteV@shis "red keel";4qhe rollBB!pu"his jacket pocketFtM $he+Joe's hab remov$lD  owner. A CalsoQto the hatschoolboy treas most inestimable value--5m a #ch India-rubber b ree fishhook@$oEQthat !of marbles n as a "sure 'Lcrystal."tiptoed his way #!s Y "he  h drhearingstraightwayc=a keen ru  "irr \-V A FEWsirX&!waM ) BhoalNbar, wading qIllinoi].re. Befoc depth rea,%Chis  half-waF  a:" p="no%},#aso he k]1wimKremainingOSswam bing ups   $=faster than dcted. However, 1Zr6$al3AdrifUlong BoundUR plac~JfRmAis hA N6Aiecexark safP .R#,35ing. Shortly before tenFecn openroppositBDvillA saw2 ly ? Btree- the high8. Everything^quiet undCe bl- !stK2He dkRGZ1alleyes, sli!c, swamor four strokXclimb7(I)"yawl" dutyEPboat's stern!1thw)ited, panting. ;!ra!qbell taavoice gagH1 or:o "cast off." A]j "la("'sh]ZsAup, s 1 swQ4voy abegun.M in his succ7!fom*ait was2^AtripB 2. A/e!a HRtwelvcifteenSwheels stoppedDTom aoverbo."ndaLysdusk, lSfifty6Bdownk,<rof dangpossible stragglrHe flewY unfrequenl3leys$]C:r aunt's QfencehoRapprothe "ellE lBin a+)1-ro Bndow"a 8was,& r/ Aunt Po:Sid, MaryfJoe Harper's mother, grouped togeB talTH s b ' &the doort B dook softly lifBlatcn he pressed gHyielded a crack; ntinued push,G= band quQevery it creaked,wQjudge  squeeze~9ugh ;i #hiq, warilWcqweblow s=I5up. >CAor's , I believe. Why, of coursr-cis. No , gs now. Go 'longqshut itF"."j"edM"la"Ded" 7`|C"tould almo\"!uc nSfoot.#asJ "Q rn't BAD, so ay --only mischEEvous. OnlyRgiddyharum-scarum, F3He Z2any bresponoa colt. HE never mean12hart@2]%st2boy:awas"--g&he!cr[Irjust so{my Joe--always full ofdevilmentbup to  rischief G`as unselfis'3Das h"belaws bless m&w2k I.an!htz#m,:once recolEAat I3wed myself ]Yis6$Sand IP1Ahim Xgi#ldv!, R abus!!" CMrs.ba sobbebif her3 3hope Tom'Jvter offi*BB"butQ'd been 5in some ways--" "SID!"the glare 2 olc3s's eye,yBnot 12. "g9N_%st my Tom,"Qat hene! God' Cke ctQHIM--F< YOURself, sir! Oh,G2, IuR know=odim up!!!!Hesuch a comforjla he tohQed myJme, 'mosrThe Lor,!th2tqhath taSrway--Blb 1nam"21!w$Ait'sKard--Oh,! Saturday my Jo<#er bmy nos D him sprawl%aLittleH $K !n,TCsoonfKto do over K1hug3and1him6 IeYes, yj1howMfeeljust exactly/longer agoqQyeste(Snoon, took and f3to tPain-killI$ ct@e house down!Go%Agive"I  ''="my thimbleY3boy 1deaab P  H"An'rwords I7Ahear2 sa6Rto re 2#Bu\6Tmemor$X1the$la3sheqentirely as snuff;:T now,Nm Bpitythan anybody elsP #ou E cry -"pu^4Q%kindly word #imm$oY)DFa nobler opin$ H1befdStill,rsuffici Bhis  grief tB!sh] tIoverwhelm herB joy;eeatrical>aappealKarongly0is naturAo, b]R resiJbnd layX*R. He&on'F#ga|qby odds;Bends+ conjectured at fir!atP(/#e#le+;M+ec0rraft ha Unext,2]she missing ladspromised!shqB"heaQq" soon;Qwise-8*$"pA %atU "Sdecidk8g`fC"at tturn upnext town below,;|N(found, lodgede Missouri pQ"fisix miles t| nBperitIbust be`%1ed,1 hu have driv4rhome byqfall if5U1soo/  W searRbodieb!8Qfruit !ef Amere2cau; 2ingaoccurr} mid-channel, sinc Qbeing swimmers,otherwiseSBesca|r Wednesday A. Ifsuntil Sunday,3opexAbe g\!ndMfunerals&$ p"onA shuddered. g>Dsobb-j0 2go.  a mutual impuly two bereavedMA flu =/5Qeach Pb's armvQhad a|,A-o{!#cr jwparted.q was te+ far beyon`Q wontu+cRto SiMary. Sid red a biCMary<#ff 6. and prayeM so touchingly, so 62ith qmeasure1lov8OGer old tremb/Avoic  3welin tears ,B sheK&9h Rstill3A5#shZ"dsrmaking -sejacula1romB, tounrestfu and turn:Q "at* "as", !oa.| sleep. Nboy stole @;*cgradua;Aside, sha"e b-light=#andQstood4r Gher. HisIrfull ofA $e [5hisxq scroll.+ARto hi he lingRconsi"R face,arUsolutW "s x Bt; h(ark hastily iv9 !ntv k[2lipAmade#stORexit,pWabehindxAthreYhis way backmhB!no \Arge ! S2ldly on 2oatwc tenanRxceptWahAman,(xiE slept like?ven imag] CuntiGS 7 zi-<$on. 2 up. When h!pu`!a V6$abhGD, he2S quarrCacro  Qstout Awork !hiT !e , side neatlyn" ts a familiaraof wor1himYBwas &Aptur 3b, arguLRat it;1 beFAshipfore legitimate prey!qpirate, a thorough @ 1be Cfor z!enCreve8B. Soo<a qand entBoodsslwM`arest, torturin Cmean o keep aw:!an]n;Vhome-stretch far spent road dayJ"he r*DRabrea  rVA barr{JO k !unzbwell u1gilI:2eat=its splendorhe plungtream. A "he paused, dripp" treshold2cam + Joe say: "No,]true-blue, Huckqhe'll cl "ac?won't deser2zstm uZ>ğtoo proudfaat sorXI a. He'sBo2 ora55C whac[8/!e 0s is ourz^i4hey?" "Pretty nearKrnot yet_1wriIAsays:B aregO 2her+? W$\he is_2fine dramatic effect, @Aing +l.o%F. AW:o "co2fisshortly provide?2as WQys sea G!itGunted (and adorned)#Qadven*% Ba vaRA boa_ P"anp."wh p>AdoneHn 5hid)BawayAshadwQsleep 9!ss&'ready to$]>e#I AFTER dinner 4ang !ou-hunt for turtle egg+ 22nt *,poking sticks s yba soft vNe eir knees#duJ!A5. S9tAould{|igSsixty<cone ho6Qy werfectly round'ea trifle smaller`an English walnut famous fried-egg(gHCnighFanother on FridaBnq!1AftK7o%cwhoopi ua|s chased(j2anda, shedclothes ,  _tere nakePthe frolic far1 upqshoal wstiff current, wYtlatter {GC leg 1unde7^1cre qun. AndX9 !op) osplashed iY)Rfacesw palms, !7ing#Q aver-@Grto avoiQsprayQd finb g! "ug,jt0 st man du$s (9TAall WQtangl6S"egucame up b%b, sput q, laughqand gas1forth at on{ )BQ7imeh|aexhaus$1runBand  dry, hot!li ?+3covB_"up !by.!byk2terjo original performance onc/>3. FQit ocX /Hn skin re ed flesh-colored "tights"F6afairly!#qdrew a i circus--&bclownsP* b none  |"R thisRest p  `a. NexAy go %ir:+l"knucks""ring-taw "keeps"at amusement grew stanH1and a BTom Cnot ,; kEin k;@f;trousers %kiY!stfof rattlesnake his anklehq U!hecramp so lo8xhe prot+ @Bchar )di *Btime6Bboys!ti%ndwD res#waapart, dropYq"dumps, fell to3!lo1$ly"thEj Ato wlay drow1un.s u  r"BECKY" big toe;*Acrat`!9Angry5 1forD weaknessXqhe wrot!f ,!!thgcnot help i !er&itAEtookz"ouc Aempt# by driving 7a toget7!nd 3 m. But Joe's D1hadhn$Abeyo Bsurr.q $o 2Rhardly endBa miserB iIerlay ver surface.was melancholy, too"waeFhearted, bu)e~A noty 3howexa secret}^ to tell,B "this mutinous d2sio72not#asoon, Quld h$+1o b6Y@Bsaid2eatof cheerfulness: "I beY>Ebeen F 4is 1efooys. We'll( VgAThey>'ide1lasomewhY6UHow'd ight on a rotten chesto% f#--But it roused onlnt enthusiasm 2fad no reply. Tom!onz+3two!se}Aons;KAfail($ooI discouragz!k.M%sa  %" a A!lo%fgloomysid: "Oh, let's !!it up. I wango home. It'sQesometOh no, Joe''ll feel be- b{($by (T?!JuD 1inkah2?C" "u$ $4for)"(t) Bing- 2anyJS" "SQ's no.$Bseemp1it,0chow, w 2re t7! to say I sha'n't go in. I me b"shucks! Baby! Yousee your4,XAYes, I DO0#my.B--an)A, ifhyBe. Ih$2 ban(Bare.c'U"%ed.wlQ cry-I m,"we A? Po08aing--d8?t$it<?'so it shall.2alike i+Xe, don't you`sFstay|?ir"Y-e-s" !ou  . "I'll:Q spea-2you2 as- as I live.1ris\!"TQnow!"&9ved moodi [6and&#d<t!ho#1s!"hNQwants'to\,$ho1et  ed at. Ohr#3iceTand m[Ries.  V,A? Le0f#unts to. we can get0{aper'apAB< as uneasy Blarm 1seeGgo sullenly on/ sUAing.5# QmfortK Huck eying"prjO9Xso wiy5 such an om%K. Presently,v2 paxAwordwade offh"the Illinoie'AAsinkQglanc bU'3loo> `;yVYI#gog!ItfM L4  it'll be worse. J*usR"=)1canKgqAstay27+I!gosWell, g/--who's h ing you.+QCpickR scatqclothesjvtAwish4'd ol3youi`.wait for youq!weCV""3ra blameh5all!st q sorrowR awayM3Tom _Ba!6ng desire tug!at;#to ]#gotoo. He hsf stop,; sw Aslow. It suddAdawn y awas bemBverypQcT3. H2one Y-d?s comrades, yelling: "Wait! (tell you some!F#y j!ly1ped$SaCgM zh5e1ingc yK|cCat ly saw the "C"s # aN set up a war-whoop of apCk#1saiTRwas "Aid!"3qhad tol]m(,#2n't away. He made a uible excuse;O!hipIl reason "be:" fa#ev<T#DthemmA ^great length ofSs$so#men 1hol eserve as a A .B ladNCa gayly:4:9 ir sports will, cha6!im #ut:stupendous plan`Aadmi)wenius of it. Aba dainA and ,!he*ed to lear bsmoke, 5Joe caughQ ideaSBlike to trysXQpipes7!fi 2the@se noviceY1 d\Lbut cigarsPof grape-vinGQ"bit" Stongu8not manly anyway. $yo'Vir elbow1uffBrilyd!slr confid9AThe an unpleasant tastGgagg Why, it's@0as easy! If0a2e/sCall,"t + #SoI4 E. "Ic!no'hy, many aI've lookA peonm$ well I wish I!do's; but I 1%Tom. "T!aRme, h$it 1You1earK Stalk <k--have o qleave iKAif In't." "Yes--5MosUHuck.$7D too Tom; "oh,ZCR. OncW1 1e s5 ter-house. Do rememberBob Tann771 thand Johnny M1 ,Ilcf 1, 'ame say  !Ye\ !. B#ay I lost a white alley. No, 't*.z --I told[1. "472s iI bleeve4Apipe4dayMfeel sickNeither do>}]$itV1. B!be  4\ !! 7keel over wtwo draws. !le D tryB. HE'D see! !beRwould !A--I  Aa tackl2onc 3Oh,)2I!"G@s:youI any more%an!onqtle sni fetch HIM." "'Deed2oul U. Say aus now?!So ay--boys!saH !i BsomeRy're = ,W Qup toQay, 'got a pipe?aPae.' An2'll31kin%1carO like, as6rX  pIamy OLDw", (03 on'rmy toba+bCin'tood.' AndZ1Oh,'" r 's STRONG e3G= $ouhO1igh ras ca'm!Eqsee 'em-S4thagay, Tom 1ish0aas NOW5!!we \"weQerwas offQing, 27 w#y' dalong?Bnot!M4BET@ll!" Sotalk ran onV &itEflag"'grow disjointedBilen adened;erexpectol marvellously ]!^ry pore ip <boys' cheekame a spouting fountainiyj2bai the cellars   rs fast Kb to pran inund;2overflowing+M throatsqin spitx 2all*"doF = Fings"Metime. BothY1ere2ing2pal miserable, 'from his nervtfingersx!. t_ygoing furBboth pumps baiB"Mm|\)id feebld) =Wknife]hCfind Bquiv2lipb 1halutterance2'llyou. You go j`Rhunt r? !pro!No needn'tvHuck--wdS ,BgainAwait!Q hourCr%itpK'"to Dhis :yswide ap oods, both U!pa Aoth a1 0informed him2 if#ha!ny trouble agot riQ"itnot talkative atT}Snight4Rhumbl1henQ prepCdp "ft meal andBparez\ "ey[2no, 1fee,well--some+1 at )mӂisagreedQ2 A !id!aw-dand ca0{ding oppressive:#ai83see02bodiNXa huddl  !so1thet(Cndly*vionshipr4F/} 2ullj=aheat o  breathless atmospA sti<Ty sat94%Awaitholemn hush 7b. Beyo{jfire eK3swaSQup inAblac`!Hr  &aaAglow  vaguely revea^ foliage for a momTavanish4by " crc1str?#n & faint moanA siguL"th0 tranchesRforesboys felt a fleeting ,ywshudder fancy tha?S! Nd !!by/. Now a weird flash,! n?Ainto  hgrass-blade,=i and distinct %aBfeet $it[three white,/tled facoo. A deep pea "thP1rol:and tumbling "r heavenGlostw# r4Qdista$A Ƙ chilly air passed by, rustlingjyn!sn the flaky ashes broadcast !ir TfiercElm FN% stant crashD#retree-tops r'Mic:p$in terror,x%athick 6!p~q. A fewsurain-dropCl paf* .. "Quick!!W"foLtent0csprangs\Broot4amoQdark,awo plu&same direction{ blast ro trees, making &as it went. One blind yH #ndnbf deafJhFnow a drenchinv1 po@#heK hurricane droveGsheets a`c0Qround<" c#u Beach#,the roarafoj-C!s >eir voices7 ly. However, one by; O 8\ook shelterk  .Qcold, /Qstrea5 ,;o%!y =?DseryR1o b teful foK  x 1 olBl fl{Q$soW2ly,0 Wd noise1hav[A The6(esS!er:qhigher, Zthe sail to "se/1its ]4X"wiCaway- %. Iseiz0"s'1}Rfled, ye bruises, toԁ2oak`U86d-bank.b battlsTst. U}R ceas conflagrf of lightnR flamii*AkiesSbelowout in clean-cuTTless Qness:"be:the billowy ,<Bfoam$@Z0 of spume-flakIhe dim outlinSdbluffsoside, glimpUD drifting cloud-rZ1lan1veirmE "L9 some giree yielR>! fand fell younger growth;Vthe unflagg/ S-pealnow in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keeBshar8 unspeakably appa[storm culminatone matcy ceffort# qlikely *+9q to pieQburn ,! ig, blow itBand rq creatuA it,av" 2. IKra wild rfor hom#}Q. Buk}'do forces retir Aweakd h threag  peace resumed her swa  %nt>Scamp,YC! d3wed3hey`Q was Sthankp07eat"^Dthe  ir beds, was a ruinTJQblast? w uwere no3Rt whecatastropppened. |! i pz!ed9A-fir/Qwell;5 t-v-AheedSlads,3Bgene0ymade no prova +/#stHc! m pbdismay2|Q soak3t eloquent iNHtres/,%,1verY0 [aten so far up HQlog iL  dbuilt !(wW it curved upK\3 &$edn Afromground),%a-breadth or so# \V2!weB; soCpatitj-t7kashreds+qbark gaBthe 2sid#qed logs+ay coax61"toQ. TheRy pil=$5boughs ti]# r furnac<|# glad-heaV751g1y d{ , !boo"haOXD feanN ][3satJd aexpandd glorified8Q<]9ndry spot to sleep %6-B. A@6sunssteal iN2oys !si!ov"em sandbar2lay1<Ogot scorche.8drearily se(breakfas"CrustJcstiff-4mhomesick once;:%Bsignbto cherTup thp+;ɹ2C. Buc 1not %fo6, or circu .E, or"%Aremi1$ imposing &aa ray 6eer. WhioD, he`7mRa new devicaK Hqo knockcbeing aq e"be*c!nspqa changOHeattracis idea; sonzs;m^head to heel black mud, like so zebras--alB Zchiefs, of course/aEwent* `A"tt%=s settleQg!By|yn ree hostile trib(Vupon @ bambushdreadful 'kQ%hcalpedHvousands  gory day. Conse$lyan extremelisfactory one. rassembl\Dcamp-rsupper-*<|`KYj4but[ifficulty arose--!d]1notk of hospitalityR-1fir<8 ,: qsimple nAsibiI@"smv2 ofER processeLDaof. Tw davages;7wF 3hadd$ed%. oD}2 wa;with such show 6! aCSmuste# Apipe# 1tooqir whiffA tqdue for1h1gladBgone"rya0Rhad g;S e now smokeA hav Ao go^;Aget 67d be se#un02abl1not AfoolG jhigh promis, #of }practised cautbafter R dfair success y spent a jubilanAning\FeRhappiw new acquirp#would have iwnd skinning"QSix N s. We will$toqnd chatL?And bsince we=nther use >, . CHAPTER XVII BUT} hilarity ?Btowntranquil eZafternoons Harper~Aunt Polly's famiE22ereS3 pumourning QgriefXP . An unusual quiet possess= village, althoug"Rordini 8 !all consci*Ir!du ssaan abs^#ir+ nblittle*sighed ofte.Ftholidayqa burdeL !Shildr61 no) Rsportz h>gUbup. I Becky Thatch1!unqself moB2abo Q dese5 aschoolc)C yar1feevery melancholy sDund  t73to FPShe soliloquize:if I onla brass andiron-knob-!:(*Dgot ` e%to * him by." And she choked besob. 5)7sto CXo9!tchere. iRto dog  x( say that' n3 the whole wor Bhe'snow; I'll <.6A seeb.12is 3t broke )1wn,qP!ndCawayQ down9Uun quite1F!ofs Vgirls--playmates of /and Joe's-- b 1ood2!Qv1 pazfence andfNArentqhow Tom]rso-and-+d2ime"csaw hi6'6how#3andmrifle (pregnant# awful prophecyu(2eas "!)  er point>tWu2actwC"heClads" 8addNpa"and IBa-stR just so-- as I am nowOf)qwas hima Aclos e smiled,Y ?2way!th!l+"me !--R, you knowD!I wZ5Wmeant ,C/1can TL a dispute5who-Bdead.cin lif`Qclaimat dismal|qand offLevidences, more or l: 1amp!DwithVrwitnessDwhen ultimately decided who DIDrthe depl"exCwordthem, the luckR2ies Aupon1selA sor"sacred importanf z1apeand envie=che respoor chap, whono other&z"toF,)tolerably 2c pride 01'Z9# ucked me-BRat bi Rglory failure. Most s "athat cheapen&!1incWWa=4loitered zs2rec2r memori!osu2oes3wedC. W\-B hou 1UfinisFnextell begaoll, inst# r  @I1a vtill Sabbath2the ful sound %in<he musing9%TlSM#on` &rs,V5ing$ vestibulQnversCwhispers#1nt.zQthereF$no/Athe 4 ;g]6eal"of dresses +f womenZ<eir seatsZ3urbJ= T. Nonpi&er q churchd!beS full5. TXMa&Q paus expectant dumbn  CV,D#Rby SiEMary yV C ball in$2 qcongregb old ministere, roselBntileos Bseatront pew$ncommuning2., broken atvals by muffc5obsbaspread,hands abroa5prayed. A mov1ymnEsungRF tex<$q: "I amRH Qe Lif2EQervic'Dceedclergyman dmLuch picturA gra  6wayA rarZbthat e4!ou)!in9Acogn!Uthese,(!pa5!herpersist"bl1him rm always Ys?BseenRfault( Sflawsg +1relaGaa toucIqincidenm&iv`e:RqillustrN.Rweet,X3ous%s people !, how nobl_ beautifose episodespt  O rank rascalit"}.bcowhid 1 be@ \ 2and D pathetic tale1n, e"at r rcompany aand jo( !erba chor swelled upa triumphant&,6c it sh! r-s0ASawycre Pirat3#eds k-1envQjuvenkGDBconf"in%$ea&"s oudest momen_1hisq j"sold"Utroop"ey6 jsbe will;"beFBridiculouCtp UuB I" Tom go81e c )esd!cc4R's vatmoods--uhad earned YByear he hardly knew which expro85ostK,!Rto GozBaffe' BqI THAT !--RchemeoAturn'bhis brpI Qatten sa y had pa4o& mo'og, at dusk on 3, lmvesg+t6; U slep   1edg7Bthe 1ill nearly dayligh`UcreptZback lan@ TsleepE  0a chaos of invalid21nchA>f fMonday2 kSto To1tivhis want Aamou1. Id!ttI<@3say> fine jokB, toHeverybody suffe'G'most a week soAboysra good 1but01s aMjC you% Qbe sop-Aed aNrlet me ob so. I-QcouldO:U overtrl1hav| eN&Aive -=2hin9D1tha" warn't d 2but qrun off=Yesedat, Tom,";Mary; "and I believR OihAoughLCW1youR?Rg!, }#ac7iZstfully. "Say<", mJr'p?" "I--w*know. 'T?b'a' sp'NILryou lov UDmuchwith a grieved tB discomfo5Gv!me! c enough to THINKc, even+ didn't DOqNTuntie)vUany harm," pleadeBit's giddy way--he is2 inba rush%he|uinks ofrUaMore's Qpity.\. AndAcomeADONEj.1too'1'll !, 0!da 'Q late DQyou'dSd+"dfor me>Acost&2so 9 j1you V` for you5H2I'd)ADtterakDlike!I Vnow IVsrepenta1; "s dreamt@1any(I,,L much--a cj$$'s!no2. W QWhy, Wednesday night I!tZsu ! bl # b 8+ woodbox A nex Uhim."TRso we9 S 'do ByourQtake  0?8 !usfD<$Jo#'s -uhy, sheA! DiHNOh, lotsso dim, nowWtHa--can'lIRSomehAseem2ind ewind b)6.{1"Trh1der9s[2p. Come!"6  !hioo$ aforehe anxious minud then *AI've i[(.! t rr!" "Mercy on us! Go]-Tom--go on#R< 1you.1, '*door--'" "Go ON]VEJust;ctudy a . Oh, yes--rS you dkwas openeAs I'mMGQI didZn't I, MaryA[}Bthen^r I won'obertaine9Qas if4 Amade'P/cWell? -I make him do%Yb1himB--Ohyahim sh   M"land's sake! IAhear% b@my days! Dstell ME1any! i 1amswV. Sereny 4& i^an hour older.^Pther getCTHISj er rubbage 'superstition.#1t's/!!brbas dayVF Nex3 I r BBAD,NmischeevousM )"an+ responsibl3n1--Ik a colt,28 Pd$"! AgoodjgracioF you(1cryU"So& "Nof* nM)" "Then Mrs.e@2cryf "JotF3ame:C2she !ha SwhippERcreamshe'd thrit out he"CselfRsperrA1cyou! Ya#Qsying2t's1youdoing! Land ae]Gno!SiAsaidd  D" " O ! IRLBSid. did, SidMary. "Sh.d"leU"heL1TomSHI{ !h^6$off whereM$gone to,  fDbeen0sometimesTHERE, d'youd that!:92his8 QwordsG"Anhim up sharpTI lay must 'a'an angelcere WAS W xCtoldZ 1Joe>`a firecracker73Pet\ainkilleraas truPeI liveQ/!loCtalk%dr;Qe riv)1r ud%3havHCA Suna qand old MissRhuggeH4cri  "en bIt hap"!so 2surT'm a- sftracks /2n't`i.Zq 'a' se" %! \what?Ie3youq, " IwBhear`C wor2aid  !en  Pso sorryq I tookRwrote4piece of; bark, 'W}dead--we are only off 4'p %T tabl_  ;'hCyou sdA, lacasleepv8Iand leaned2lip6 D ,&I;bforgivqhm#at4she4crushing embracpt, feel lik( guiltie%villains.#wackind,  Dough~a--dream," , faudibl!up! A body doeV as he'd do if heVyA. Hea*FMilum apple  s 1was-,t--now gto school.=qto the Oc1Fat2f ui  ~2ack>'d-F1ing"Bmercy [l#t q on HimHis word, Bknow unworthy ofa 1nesR FHis *ad His hand+slp themEugh placere's fewAsmil 2e o= t{%4wHis res>long nightUDs. G2Sid >Q--tak+r)1off( 've henderClong.e children lefw old lady to call o vanquish her realism!sq marvelu(3had1Q judg_"toF_pi4"mi,"hethe house.XAthis zrthin--az\Bthatdout any mistakekWhat a hero/a, now! Henot go skipp~(%Rncingm"a dignifi!agƌXa@ who felthe public eyEm|cindeed; he triesto seem2 th2s ooaremark-he passed along?tW5Afooddrink toSmaller boysl%1flo+cels, as A to 6"enw"le$#bys the drummer1heaQ cession Ae elephant lead menagerie :own. Boys ofown size pretendVIknowaway at all'4were consu with envy,bthelesW EUgiven& i#av1swasuntanne6?his glittnotoriety3Tom !no# Ae pa1ithBr a =e3Dbaso muc}bbof JoeAdeli!9eloquent admir)݅*"eyT1two"esMAnot "inCsuff+."stuck-up."s#1tel ir adventures]5ungy#2ers9B;c@ 9ran end,aimagins}!irrfurnish material+,yorir pipewent serenely puffAroun Q Qsummi; glory wadCchedOQdecidbe independen@ ]6now. Glorysufficient. He_2liv|R. Now !heTdisti?'a, maybJ?qbe want o "make  !le!-- h  qas indi1Qnt as other people. 6 arrived. !seAawayQjoinetrroup of5%Oalk. Soo#!obed$s%3 trYQgaylyR ERforthi1fluJAfacedL Hbe busy chasing4mat?so4th a 2sheV a captur9h$icI3shea+/Cher 1vicinity&89qto cast!nsS eye =gPW1ch ~RI"i2!viFc vanit wB him)so0Awinn!im&only "set "#moE6himSdiligAavoirc at he knewKboutR gave~ qskylark`;+ved irresolutelyBQ, sig 1onc 3twi#glafurtiv45nd @QTom. 2snu71was1ing  particul0"to Amy Lawr7 Dne else. SheArp pRwnd grew1and uneasyKc=2tri1go away, but 2eet8t+2ous:1car71her"he "to a girl*as"'s%g!--)sham vivacity:Mary Austin!  A, wh&"n', #to-n?Cih!#--*Qee me"Why, no! d1? W1sit(Ix!ins' classu1go.Xw YOU!? oit's funn!n'+D you>uw2you 'QicnicU%Oh!jolly. Whol)XMy maa}5oneRcgoody;  she'll let ME com)Hieill. T#'s<!any#AbI wantQI)!ev4# nice. W7Fs itbBAQby. M r1vacBk fun! YouM r1oysAYes,tfriends to me--or3be""he:4ed Ay calked d"lo   the terr$Tstormbisland[h9P#nr PNq tree "o flinders".c";rwithin EYBfeet6lQmay I#G]rMiller.P.1And 1Sally Rogers&+usy Harper. "And Jo[Aon, g2claiof joyful"s 0 ogged for invitNs"To]1Amynturned coollyPcstill Atook# 's lips tremblAbars ca1her;Y!hi$se signsa forced gayet con cha tfJ7?!ouny 1got( !on aand hi61rand had4rher sex4"x'xGsat moodywounded pride,qll rang roused upua vindictive cast Y1gav| plaited tailsik, swhat SHE'D do arecesscontinuedBflirO jubilant self-satisfacAnd he kept )Uarto findG1lacerformance. At las AspieEsudden fa-rmercuryb#bcosilylittle bench behi/BhousT 4t a27S-booklfred Temple--and so absorbed2hey #so?Atoge Rbook, 1didby 5 ofsq+lB besides. Jealousy ran red-hveins. H1hat  2for "waqcchanceQhad o  a reconcili. He callc-r a foolhe hard names a!ofD~#cr3vexd!Am tted happily1, a'y!, 8.e!rt= Asing 3butRtongu{8!it 4He Bhear+,Aas s BwhenZexpectantly h;!onu1ammh awkward assent, (/N sFA misQd as Awise !toaBrear! ,0q and ag%#ato sea eyeball"=1ate>!clryj belp itqit maddUL q5Bough"aw;  ]Thatcher\ once suspe(`iC# lthe living. But3did59 +Ber f%/3toosas glad#Tuffer^3haded. Amy's happy pra<$inA!e.!hiac g&,o attend to; s must be doneAtimeUfleetin vain--N chirpedkT`, "Oh, hang hi%k  aget rioXher?" r those 9he said artlessly !ou" """ chool leJeShe hax3hl, t. "Any(Qboy!"p#gr3is teeth yGH1#buSaint Louis smartd20and is aristocracy! Oh, c a, I lij1youfirst dayuWqaw thisa, mistAnd I 1ick.Y just wait_ I catch you out!9%1tak  ermotionsZArash+n+r= --pumme>hI1kic&>and gouging.{you do, du0? You ho',Qthen,?learn you!" r Fthe Qflogg'as2o 15fome at noon. His L not enduByD3 of4 iAThis jHtbear noAB thea distrf'Rresum) 1 in'h bAlfredI*sy"">!no#to,Ktriumph BclouG 3she/nterest; gravi absent-mindV-s followeGthenLR; two2ree -"pr!up2ear footstep" iba fals%;i Ashe bentire({1 wisbEdn'tjit so faVsen poor Q, see!loP2notV)Ahow,E exclaiming: " aO one! look"1s!"{1pat(Oc at la99S saiddon't bo| Sme! I2carathem!"` LBearsagot up)Cwalkq2. dA dro'alongside+s-}2"buRsaid:,2awa&leave me 5e, .1! I1 Shalted, won# waZdone--forCFaid }i !snooning #hej on, crytC!mu Z?he O qwas humO egQangry!ea bguesseE Vtruth Rimplya;Gn0nXAventRspitee)I". far fromh=be lessPDBdGZ !3g~to trouble withoutS riskTAselfR's spn Cfell^ 4. HMhis opportunitZ!ly.e !onLfternoon/T?&inKr page. ,pi cwindowm R#ou5vP. She startward, now, inten28tell him;~ thankful%healed. Before s half way4, hh1sheSchang$migi 4 of Sreatm!heS@C her came scorc9R:S sham|yvz6 ge,!ondamaged i's account*"tohim forever,Ohe bargainVIX TOM 1 at:'adrearyoa_sm Qaunt R k1 sh\-Qhad b tQorrow an unprom$kmarket: "Tom, &1a n  2kind live!" "Auntie,o2aved&e?4Ryou'v ! e I-vTSerenM,ran old softy, expectingAor!o ZL :g$atn0 2hat4,!loRbehol{ s'3fouf!Jot7 2wasabtalk wt&, I don'1 $Q of a9will act  that. It makes me feel so b [-go\A andG!L l of myself never say a word." Thisa new at  %  3nes( aLH!toueCjokeBvery ingeniouse *A mear shabby !He "2heaA"no5ken71 to,#4he IBdn'tvit--butCT2Oh,i#'!k. c0your ownrishness66T Lfrom Jackson's I?2 to $urt yoo?\:ASa liem<%91n'tC to pityk* Rve usXCsorr8q!knJ8was mean,!#I J CB. I s, hones1),. Ayou &W<ibme forI"toV1you'&us™(n't got p!del!th nkfullestMi} 2wor>I7bhad asta !"atY2you ever did !it." "Inde ' 1, a%--52mayOQ stir2H!OhT Rlie--,!do[QIt on 1kesPcgs a hUFbtimes *<a; it'sH0 F. I k,1you @?X4"at)"&me2I'dLW#it Z power of sinsV72'mo}you'd run eand acted2it reasonable;n #me  %Ryou g y 22, IFgot all fulRthe idea ofa' the churchI("n'GBh2 a$Qspoil$Sotpbark back in my po 1andjA mumkW.1arkq2ark 13we'+ d 1wak8qI kissee--I doL6linS%aunt's face relax[! t.Sness %inq. "DIDqkiss meM !Ar.3 su ?did2Dq--certa|ArmRz ~Because IBcobyou laBare moa-Band "3ZBds sz Aruth.* tremor inRvoice&K9E!!bexAwithbf1 o " hTgashe raqa.!goAruin$1 ja#T c in. T0 _vher hand< erself: "No, 't dare. Poor boy, I reck(+ #ed bit's a1!leBlie,7's such aQ1romaI hopeLord--I KNOW BLord 1forr_.Qisuch goodheartd"it3"wa'#fi 1lielook." ShexCawayRttood bya|b. Twic-Dput 21takA garUand t:refrained. Once m1ven1rhis timo3forN)3Wc}:> llie--i!et%1rieR." SoG3. Aa E, J7y"flQtearsix3: "Athe Bnow,}5'|'mitted a millionl)!"X THEREAsomeAunt Polly's manner"~!BTom,; Bswep low spiriVBhim lightRhappy6. Hp&A luc YBupon O8e of Meadow Lane Dmood+determined3. W|Bc's hes$ h]; Iamighty to-day,6I'm 9 ,#2 do!4ive--pleaseB up,S you?vDgirlKRA him<dnfully( face: "b3thac. 65 TO , Mr. Thomas Sawyer.i AspeaM 2youR!to*h a!pa!onCd stunn-1 noYnkh!ce(inIrsay "WhHs, Miss S&?"j[ ?$&it%dby. So$1 no(OQin a Rrage, 03He mopedAyardf1ingObwere azBand ing how hebtrounc%if:iatly en#erd 2R a st"y remarkQ5. She hursWbreturnngry breachcomplete. It EY$to Bhot 0Rment,s#AQAwait)Q to "02in,was so im see Tom flo\injur2. I;1hadany lingl!noQbof exprAlfred %,aoffens;2lqad driv=vaway. Poor girl dOrhow faswas near. The maMr. DobbK n͢middle agean unsatisu3ambDqThe dar!ofdesires was3#be a doctorqpovertyWdecreshould be*Q highan a village q. Every he took a mystmQ book>CVk and&$1 in;{s "no6.5Breci8"R$! t& 3ookJ#lo21key#rqot an utMwas perisve a glimp[Q@Bance+T came1boy8c theor-1 Qnaturqno two 1iCalik6t way of getting5ats in Base. "as1pas!by4Ddesk% 1nea~R door t3tX)5ae lockADrecious H  glanced around;>B next instantHOs1The title-page--Professor Somebody's ANATOMY--carried no informa/mind; so s+!ga1tur s"cau!3oncaomely engravW frontis> --a human figure,qk naked !CK+dow fell Apage}3TomA ste$inAdoor&fcaught tpicture!bsnatchs"to >aR hard BSdindpeEathrustfvolumej2tur@Ce ke  out crying'1 shand vexF. ",2are1 asacan be4sneak up on a persou"wh 8y'r+." "How yH2looS$ta?" "Y$Abe a  ;wfyou're&tell on m1#ohQshall) !! 1 be whipp ICwas 3%P astampe,!fokdRBE soU i!% *2'E*. %&and you'll see! Hateful^' "!"she flungthe housd*cexplos>\:still, rather flustereC1onsBt. P+ O+  !Whi"cu&k," aCqis! Nev2xen lick! Shucks! What's a#Sing! 4ClikeS$--so thin-ski and chicken-". 4Aof c4 # Iq)t$ldV3'is lA's o@Gwaysa even a<&|tC7? Oxktask whof%3his book. Nb'll answe en he'll doUay hekoes--ask firs\An t'wOns" jiBing. Girls' facese*9yMM2bonT1'll .i  hatight - ', p1any#ou.*!coCDJ'added: "All,3"'dQto se"inQfix--!er sweat i"!")4joi0gmob of: lars outsideC[ags  !nd:ol "took in Afeel rong interests studies% #hea 1 at gc side Broom !'sX d him. ConsiL&3alltT, he 4Bpity`B$et+2all1uldo-/"HeVup no exultd!lly worth[ n  \ %Qdisco@ 6#adeHH Sfull I own matterE9a~72aft "t.64&er lethargE *"Xgood the proceeding _! 3Tom"ge(&aby denrhe spil2inkCw  >/sSG:adenialr mn4TomssupposeV A gla{Bthat%sJmergency paralyzbinvention. Good!--han inspir4! Hk"ruXbook, spring thi)"3fly5NAolutAhooke$ont" i)was lostl ,rTom onl9{ Wsted , bQ! Toorkn Sw *O  Bfacex1. Eeye sank under AgazeLv9smote even Pbnocent/Hfear>1sil%B onez count ten =kAatheV.#raH npoke: "Who  book?" nNsound. On 1havxrd a pin,1a still!continued;CAsear-4fac|  for sign uilt. "Benjamin@,!tuS?" AA. Ane  pause. "Joseph HarperD5+;I uneasinessE2and4#sethe slow tor+es TFDscant ranks of boys--c ,ed!ur3 : "Amy Lawrenc,eA shak head. "Gracie MillerQ samerYLusan! 8his)rnegativ(2waslMA was"bling fromcto fooQexcitG and a sa!op_!of/Rsitua "Rebeccazc" [Tomhf#--I!Cwhitterror] --"]R--no,4(me6b" [herA rosmappealE?XAG29lik;Da%br(3prafcis feehouted--"I:"t!}BstarperplexitH6incredible fF3Tom!"a C, toHqdismembfacultiesk wYNA for=#to-his punish"=burpris gratitudB adosCshon64himBpoorv!'st Bpay /O)1 IBed b~splendor qown actv Sb outcr7most merciless fla DMr. 2had8,badminiBalso receiSN!ce"added crueltaa comm o remain Shours0ld be dismissed-- knew who #wa k]h;his captivit3don he tedious s, either$C6bto bed, planning venge jgainst ; ;arepent5#ol4"ll^ 3for 3'jq "ry8"thV1ingHW %way, soon, to !Santer'%she fell asleep at las's latest0sdreamily inRear--, how COULDbe so nobl23XI VACATIONapproaching),nKqsevere, rjQexact1han[,i!a .!shV on "Examin" day. His rodkhis ferul8! seldom idle now--)=&st # sUpupils. Onlabigges7 young ladie}e e twenty, escaped la #' Ss wer vigorous onO!; lC he \,K6 wig, a perfectly balQshiny=#, Ronly d'B ageq T of feebleJMmuscle. }great day "ed?byranny#waEc=face; hec! H)!ur?Ie least V2comTnQnsequ Y1boy59 air dayNp8Fz)1plo1 rezy threw away noo "to'  a mischief y a$J"im\r retrib8 & rfollowe*yCful vCso s|Qmajes^| from the field bad#stBtthey co2tog_Ԝ#lag7 QdazzlaictoryBy swaign-pa."'s(BCchem3askEhelp0s v`1deldRboard Rather's f]3K$giboy ample -rto hateFTd's wifHBgo o"!sitSuntrySew da~J#1to !4fer !he O Aprep f3forQoccasAA3by 8Zty well fuddl Q boy  the domini roper condw$G on A Eveh1q"manage"Bhe n[ <9Vwaken hhurried #toB. I!fu; "im!esHc arriv0+" iewas brilli' Cdorn wreathsbfestooDfoli!xflowers! s 1ronH 2 {d platform,< Alack=#? tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on *(!si\Rd six%1in "c m.foccupi dignitarw1own)% aparentusTg left, backh citizens,Dba spac emporary5u@"th&Blars3 !er1taktexercise ; 1of S"he"drY0"toxae statdiscomfort; gawky bigRs; snowb_ X clad in lawBmuslHKbcuousl,ir bare armsir grandmothers' ancient trinket&2 biApinkblue ribboLir hair. A>/!tas fillKnon-participa.%2. Ac"3boy!upsheepishly recia"You'd scarce expecaof my o speak in public stage," etc.--ac5ing#ai-r Vpasmodic gesturech a machine mahave u csuppos ' a trifle]aorder."he*7safely, though cruellye}3g9afine r!offHD?dp! manufactured bowqD. A u1lis$B"Mar a+Clamb]#, Qgbssion- aurtsy,yher mee,ru!wn#ShappydSawyer ӕited confid o1int)1 un hGindestruct"Give me liberty orme death" speech1furc frant4Aicult  $ia middlit. A ghastly "-fbAseiz m, his leg5ked m=  to choke. True  1nif/!ir tterly defeab a( attempt at,it died early. "The Boy StoodC" BӘa Deck"!owPAlso 3Assyrian Came Down,"!ot{eclamatory gemV"rerd,a& f^ meagre Latin class ,Qhonor prime fea41ing"in,original "compos\ 3s" a. Each-!er: !to<qedge ofr 1cle.1roal anuscript (tis dainty)F"eqCreadQlabor t to "expreDpunc!1the.r had been illuJ;on similar  Sb befor^, doubtlessir ancestoremale line F nCrusades. "F[Ahip"wone; "MbOther Days"; "ReligioHistory"; "Dream Land";qdvantagv  Culture"; "Form Political Government Comp and Contrasted"; "MelancholrFilial LovVrHeart L#sp A prevalentY!se\ca nurspetted m|B; an>asteful and opue1gusf"language"; <qtendenc dlug inRears 6 ularly prizedphrases until+ Fwornx%3outr peculiRthat ZX CmarkBmarrlahe inveterata r sermonwits crippled tail  Ae eneach andby one E m. No matter wCssubjectG Rbe, aA-rac 7$ & quirm it into some as "r AFa" rQus mi} !ul*templateAaedificG glaring insincerid"_not suffi o1assYabanish  fashion'Lit iT to-day; it never will bex,orld stands, perhaps. #]5ll our l$2herD1 do$feel obligwAclos.!iru1ithkBrmon|/aill fi >#MfrivolouT  Dgirl1dongest9XQrelenhly pious. Butis. Homely truth is unpalatable. Let u2oK"!."QXfirstNas read9one enti#1"Is (n, Life?" Pgreader can endur_'bxtractNit: "I5common wal S life(ful emot!do/ERthful9ly"1warvsome an qed scen 2fesc! Imag is busy sketchingt-tinted3Prjoy. Inû voluptuous votary}TEsees`(1amiA3 ei ng, 'the observe4allrs.' Her gracRarray7snowy robes, is whir! f"uga1maz3joyous dance;E eye is b !es rY 3 is#st gay assembly.-BdeliIf"#quickly glides by, welcome hourRs for1ntrBintoe Elysia cld, of bshe ha2 g\w fairy-li eF !ry appear kher encharvision! 3newjis more charm}aBlastfas1nds{Aenea@ais goo߁xterior,#is vanitflattery3onc 1souqw graterharshly1ar;ball-roomCqlost it4sF%Rhealttaimbitt= Qheart1she bs away1Fnvicaearthl8s cannot satisf U1ing1theHJq!" AndV#or3so D!rea buzz of g/1to 3durB $, Qwhisp4ejaf"How sweet!" 5qeloquenSo true!l had closed jc ly affli e\enthusiastic n arose a slim,X8r, whoseK07' "C" paU42comMTpillssigestioX>`a "poem." Two stanza&"it=!do+ "A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA-qlabama,%-bye! I love1! qBut yetLzCdo I:+1thec/1Sad1, sQought(!myR~bt doth And bqrecollesng my brhRFor IAwandH|!th[wSoods;Have roamN a;Tallapoosa's stream53blisten, *ssee's warhfloodswooed on CTide Aurora's beamA "YeM8Ame I to bear an o'er-full4`Nor blush4urnmy tearful eyeB'Tisno strange% RI nowa+pm2(to0s left I yield; Qighs.[W|sand hom2min  is StateW1TvalesL"--F!spq?fade fas (1col ag3eyex 9eoen, dear ! BturnQISee!" c Bwere4few$ho $at "tete" meKl"bu "po S very|ractory, theless. Next/ed a dark-UBxionEIfack-ey Qhaire qng ladyQ paus2 im'vwJa, assu tragic ex$n Q " m~ d, solemn tone:A VISIONN2Darbtempes 2was5 2. Aq on highA+2ingr quivered; butAdeep0"na T heavy thund "coE-qly vibr 1ar;s]rerrific n .gry mood-de cloudy chamberheaven, seebo scorQpowerXted over itsAor b,allustrFranklin! EvqisterouYwinds unanimaM"th mystic /Qblust?3as if to enhanceBir a Q wild!#. . "At5 a$A, so Rrearyv human "mymspirit sigh@eQbereof,k1'Mye#iend, my counsellorand guide--My jop Qgrief,second blis[in joy,'RQto my1. S#ve^9o. Z 3ose p!s !d Qe sun9lks of fancy's Edekromantic , a queen of beauty un#qsave by !ow_ctransc xAlovevPsGAsoft 1, iqQfaile2mak a sound,"bu1mag0thrill impartedgenial touch, ather unobtrui< Bhave away un-perceived--unse4. A1 sau res4herf1s, "ic5s e robe of December,21poi 0nd]Aelemtcwithoub0Tg5two"bresentV3Thi;(ma)1tenB}h1oundwith a 5so v all hope to non-PresbyterianN  #!okApriz%1osi~ Gwas /Qto be sfinest >81.cTmayorvillage, in deliveJ  rhe auth6 it, made a warm speech i Bhe sQby faT"b "" !heE  that Daniel Webster well be prouit. It may be rel2ng,xthe numbes in whiz4aword "4Qeous"over-fondlegxrience referras "life'sS,E$upeusual aver`1Now}m,"1 alA ver3k1putchair aside, !ed9 !udldraw a map of America #A, toa"ci geographyoupon. But he 9sad busi] !thu|&y 8SQa smod titter S!ov*=!e '/ nB wasDset =Ato r !it:sponged out2Qs and=dbm" he only dted themQE!evn E&ApronGMd$)$hi'>J his worky(if@PBnot uput dowQmirthBfelt"al B wer #en him; he i| was succeedingFyt;\5uit even6ly increased.Q igarret above, pieta scuttle 1his|,@$is- came a cat,nended a$ q haunch a string;1had&!g V 4PEjaws=qrom mewDslowly de#Q curvwAward-Aclaw,swung down-qintangi!!irRxKahigher2 --the cawb six i"absorbed teacher's head--down, "$owshe grabbu2wigNher despEclaws, cluS4iw1nat7u ", " i} Yr trophy7" ibposses 1And0Qthe ldid blaze abroadx's bald pate--fo 3, boy had GILDED it! That broke upEmeet3boyavenged. Vacn  3com NOTE:--The'+"a" quotaS tpter are taken%out alteriBfrom avolumeqtled "P7and Poetry, Western Lady"--yj1exa%0݇Qecise  *agirl pQhenceEAmuch9 Aappi"anYcere imUs be. CHAPTER XXII TOM joew order of CadetTemperance, r attracN  1howw@ "regalia." H3misRbstai^Q smok9!ch,Aprof as longSArema1a m OQ he fn thing--nam&a1 noBdo a+" iZasurestO  3 body wanA!goVQvery Pv$b soon W!rm] q# aQc to drc)q swear;Rgrew %so:!nor jL bof a c6to display i8red sash kept himwithdrawing from . Fourth of JulT61;Qon gaat up --iC"A2worrshackle7 1y-ehours--and fix0Bhope? old Judge Frazer, justic)Beacewas appares'"bei/ Ta big*funeral,  o9an official. Du( ree days[;Bdeep+rcerned 62the' d Qungry1newit. Sometimese: "ra$--#heRventuj1get Chis practiseO.R-glasrmost discourag yJbluctuabAt las'as ~Amend then convaltQwas disgust9'qnd felt !ns&injury, too !haQsigna,tat onceq"at#Bsuffc relapBdiedrresolve kP! trust a mand@T+Cpara a style calculated to killClate^Benvy$1fre[m@!reAsome!a La swears Ors surpr 1dids7Qsimpl| hga, tookBaway Charm  GDqly wondQto fiIacoveted vGwas beginning -4&ng Cheav}M ands. He attempt$BiaryPLed dso he abandonedT?!rsanegro minstrell!s cto tow aa sensand Joe Harper+-up a band of e-r were happm1twonGloriousbwas in a failureWAit rFT&, encx ! i!seI-e&t! aeatestBAin tabrld (aT!/ed), Mr. Bento actual Uniteds Senator, prov overwhelYQdisapXBment Gwenty-five feoqgh, nor +Q anyw;neighborhoosrA circu qboys pl"J @#  in tentsof rag carpetAadmi ,@2pinOB;two for girls#ens. A phrenologisa mesmerizerI3wen1lef H8_Udrear "evf>=BwereUeCAand-'(1es,jDthey,A fews6so $(Bonly2 the aching voids between acae hard= Thatcher1gon}bher Co_ ainopleat!Bher ks } bm1sidaElifeP.dreadful secre*athe mu  chronic miseryєaR canc^ q permanX* 2aingnmeasles. wo long weekl Mprisoner, dea}1andw"Aings1wasQ ill,;O !no3. W2cgot up aU3andafeebly{-$"!achange3com./$"nd2 cr.rb* "revival/0 had "got *1n,"{Bdult"thyLbbhopingsst hope!1e s$ of one blesOQinful"- A cro(Ahim Qwhere9Qstudy Testament4Rsadly9- "deng spectacl_  Ben RogersKvhim visi6 #ooca baskBractE!huup Jim Hollis B calLs]KK{2ous0ing of hisA 2 as DningSboy he encounti!ad2nother tfV Aon; 1hend ion, he flew for refuge a) F bosom of Huckleberry Fin! bwas re+Scriptural quotjirw_ re crept!an!be"2lizat he alXA allw!st4and .%Bnv=&st:Adrivain, awful clap ]/blinding she81cov!the bedclothe"ai! a horrosuspensehis doom; not the shadow of a doub  is hubbub was 1himrSdQtlm!thtgbearanowers aboveMQextremitp Bendu2h.i the result have seeme1him!st[ApompiRammunp Ca bu3a b(of artille+;b incongruou' E3 up+n'2 asrto knoc+ Bturf! insect likeB. Bbtempest spent itPcand diQout accomplis9its objectc boy's bimpulsgratefulreform. His +EwaitC"re>bbe anyDsK"dadoctors were back;w4hadd 3 heU!baO!is2!%an})ge . ehardly4D1spa#"reing how loneWQstate companionlesAforl@oPdrifted listless Btree+p41 acuqas judg a juvenile courr1cat her victim, a bird and Huckup an alley e@ a stolen melon. Poor lads! they--tTom--ha7E SI ATkhe sleepy atmospStirrevigorously:3e trial4k!betAsorbWtopic ofe talk immediately xyBaway$itArefeQO ; sent a shudd his heartroubled consc i[5LQpersu2himBthes#rkr!pu tqas "feelers";1seen-Rld beaqof knowz n -  Fnot be comforc2ae mids, agossip1kep(rshiver e"Hu##a 1pla+!a Sm. Itb QreliedbunsealAonguwhile; to divide)iburden[l87r. MoreoqBhe w/to assur-m discreet. "Huck,1you" told anybodh--that?" "'Bout wYou know." "Oh--'course IZ"n'Never a wordLAsoli2Qword,|Qelp mat makes you ask:qWell, I\ aafeardbVWhy, ?B, wen't be aliv$1dayQ #go out. YOUt2TomWmore A. AfnQ pausnQ5n'tL1get!to\,"Q they"Ge[!? !if half-breed deviLzF me z) gO$y ain't no diMn>Uthat's all(!&n.twe're safe %   we keep mum. But let's swi-1gai1ywa'!Qsurer}I'm agreeS# ry swore? , solemniti"%S talk,yQ? I'vBrd al " "Talk? Pit's just Muff Potter, $the timepReps mg!t,tant, so'sd7A'ersT{"ju9+Q samebgo on p reckon he's a goner. Don'gfeel sorhBhim,AimesqMost always-- *raccount thfA don %ur. Just fis 4 B, toSoney drunk onfSloafsFiderable; l-!we2do |MBwaysu&of us--pr s <+Blike@!ki?PE--heBahalf aB, onre Krn't enough4 2two"lo eEQby me?sqof luck!meBkite"me,knitted hooks%o my line. I wish w"geot$u" "My!&"n')W. And besides, 'tn't do any=;'d ketch{ AgaincYes--s>aI hate;ear 'em abus2 so the dickens6"he/fI do tooL)I[2say&toodiest i ip n !!an ver hung befoO1Yes=y+%7~Qif heK)1frery'd lyn^A'"it'" The boys]"aQtalk,Csit broum1. A# twilight drew #ey themselves ha6 * leAisol80Ejailz=an undefinp8d; z-m!clow;!irAicul+T But =eno angels or fairies i! tYss captiveAboys#\!ey~Qoften%!-- AcellYring andk qtobaccobmatche-;n gBfloo% rno guar"isl2tud /Qgifts Q smott!irL "s --it cut deep,lx@ 2cowASand t!ou2the Sdegreaid: "You've beenQy goo1me,--better'nw 1elsthis town1I d+forget it,Q. Oft1sayrmyself,I, 'I us\AmendMCoys'.Bings:Ashowfishin' place01befD4Bat I1 2nowjcve allaB oldthe's in92TomIQHuck b--THEYP)" '5-!them.' Well, "eBwful$"--and crazy  #--w athe on*1y I!un2 itnow I go:Qswingxiit's right. RighABEST, b--hope  we won't4at.! make YOUl dbad; yCed mh<say, is,p2YOUG !--m 3youSStandR er furder west--soSit; it'smBAee fw"lya&C5 Aa muP Rtf1non$ ae heregyourn. Gooda w"--"ly. Git up on Hother's backYl touch 'em. = Qit. S}`qhands--}1'lln1 th-Abars mine's too big. LittlBweak--buyQ 3lpel ^ 2shelp hi*.iy"."!home mis CnBream#full of se next day{e fter, he rt-room, dra@. irresist`,(1in,tforcing( to stayF| 1hav (1qy studi~a avoidpL"ch4FKTkelet !atdD Now,7#A us t** b--telleown waEskipp,h+sbegan--}AinglRfirst"as"rmtQubjec f  easily;ln! sdceased buP own voice;&ixAhim;qed lipsbEBhung!higads, ta]\no note of"d, rapt1ghaCR!on 1ale#q straina pent emoq q climax 5boyJ "!asdoctor fetcheETboard+"ag fell,@Cjump-P?1andCrash! Quick$Cighte}%Cspra|aa, torem1alloAsers gone! CHAPTER XXIV TOM1a gring hero onc>e>%pe2old-Aenvyhbng. HiR eveninto immortal prin;* paper magnyhat believe be Presid Byet,  * . As usualfickle, unreask9s % to its bosomBfond3 Alavi@XRas itb} !&Bsort of conducO&o"'s"t;fIp'#noJto find faulQh it.!'sv: of splendor and exul2 J2hiss were s?.  infeste=s Ddoomz deye. H!y aUcould', 1boy"tir abroadafall. Poor HuckiH 1samI"wrrand terror "ad*p7!ho!or* Awyer Qgreat V 6and4sor01hara y Jumight ldnotwithsta_A's f!sa!im+QZyq N.#4afellowDhe attornepromise secrecyqwhat of? Since }Sharasy![2 Bdrivp%c c'&Rse bywaad2lip ^been sealnsdismaler;most formidab=aoaths,a's conchuman race`well-nigh obliteratcXDaily2'"1madA gla\0Rpoken%!Vly he wish%1up " c. Hal"imZS nT 3be dVa othercY@ >+ He felt sure heMbdraw a+again until1man92dea,y@ Rewardselvcountryrscoured"no2 Jofound. Oose omniscind awe-inspi^marvels, a detective,1"upoSt. Louis, mo"ar@S$shhead, looksort of astouQ succ  3sZb craft!lyu=!ev1at ' say, he " a clew."n you can't hang a "clew" for#soZoEgot ]qnd gone8. s-63ure3was,. R slowdrifted obleft b Cit a"ly qened we"of apprehenV THERE comesVqrightly{1tru+26_)has a rag1sirrgo someqand digRV}1sur3is 9suddenlyU3one{e sallied+R Joe ~Bfailed of8. Next h<;!a %gwTtumbl@FI2FinRed-Handed." qanswer.m3 private-#op$e matter to >{kbtially`*Awill>  o take a hanwy enterpri RferedBtainnd required no capital a&u superabundanc)Rtime r rmoney. 'll we dig?" sair. "Oh,5.Uq." "Wh%D i[ e?" "No, inde  /a. It's-"in=y bicular5 --/ on islands,Atime@ rotten chests!envaa limbSn old@Bree,0c;falls at 1 mo aQfloor) ba'nted0Who hides iWhy, robbers, K urse--who'0? Sunday-school sup'rintendentsXIknow. If 'twas mine I Cide it; I'd9!nd1 a _&1o;1 I.l"do!XUf and leave it "ADon'y0Cy moA!No y)k,w$B#qy generUQforgeT 0q, or elJey die. Anyway, it  t 1a l "im gets rusty;!by- !bycbody finds<yx  Xtells howAthe 2--a  o be ciphCovera week because it'stBsign hy'roglyphicjaHyro--H"--picture>qthings,]Qknow,1seeTmean u1Hav1d got o"emas, Tom|!No0Well then,: Afind #61wan^ esbury itas or on a"ea t0Eat'sAsticTout. *!'v ed Jackson's I}iwe can tQagain/R timeSy' -1 up Still-House branch,=qlots of-StreesnAload1'emI#ll Htalk! NoTA81ichJ1forG _1'emI1Tom/6#llll summerf 2? SI#a brass po-a hundred dollar,"llAgray2 fudi'monds. HowaHuck's eyes gX1!bubPlenty4qme. Jus R gimmM Iand &noT" "AT8~QI betI:k!foff onDb Some 'Qth tw3Rapiec"#reWaany, hn2's <six bits oHvaNo! Is1 soCert'nly--anybody'llyou so. Hever seen on5E!No7I!nOh, kingsA sla|$S_"no5$I reckon@i!if3wasto Europ!'d.Qa rafr'em hopGr b" "Do1hopBHop?_-u grannylN2say>1did CShucks, IJ1ean'd SEE 'em--not V Yto hop for?--but IRQ 2seeV3scal &, 28$ aBLike!ol]pbacked Richar* 2? W_2his,Q nameRHe di'ny"1. K!but a givenIN!Bu.yiy like it-R 54D,Xa niggeroRsay--t Eyou  1irsn< S'pose we tacklj ) hill t'8side ofjrI'm agreea<got a crippled pickea shovel1setwir three-TtrampV*"hoCrpantingE]/7T downH2shaa neighbo!elq#- smoke. "ISthis, Tom. "So do I 2SayP$weCtreaF#re 1do 0your sha ZBI'll3pie5MU 3oda2day1Rgo toV&fSlong.0aQa gayrnbsn S sa"tod h AlivebM1!byy#OhP |any use. PapY CcomemFo thish-ybwQR2 daR\5as clawiIurry up,ZIjhe'd clea3out pretty quick.tn$buy a new drumua sure-'Whearts jum8ao hear[strike upoFyb"$#ed3dis <+Aa str a chunk. AtDE5Tomv -rxrbut we CAN'T b&. We spottv)AshadX2bo a doI$tF1the6re';"tthat?".wpAguesoyH Menough i1too5> or too earlAHuck 7ped .tat's it9Ahe. !'sDveryLLFaone upBcan'| 2thea1sidL$is` ',8C%Y#ofy%> ;2 a-fluttY&Zbafeel aP$'s!mNZ;'AfearTCturn)%uz'V front a-<Qa cha I been creeXAll o1ever since I DBI've=smuch soAHuck6y mN put in a de&# why bury. e, to lookGLordy!" "Yey3 7If !toRPpeople. A h1s b!toDintoQ'em, "L" "r2stiRMup, eitherjf2onet! 2.Akull !ay" DCTom!2wfu"it "is^U3a b,QSay, <lp~ d"trARs els?%,  $weY 5bconsid|/;dJ:The%. G  4s.c 're a dern sight worse'n  D lVN,lyocome slid rshroud,nUnoticApeep shoulder3f a:%!1griqir teet"Ra does. I Bn't qsuch a NPa--nobody 1Kt2but, dUtraveU 1 heu_! 1But <{#goCYthat fA norg 4v emostly M J#go5 Qa manaen mur, anyway | E"erODseen5 # except b--justLBblue'Rs sli& q window regular Gsl![Xflick5acan beu4h!cl~Qehind Irs to reason. Be1any2butAs us<pEDcomebP`f, so wl!us3our?7a<W$ df^#I it's tak@A y(qstartedffhy) TAmidd- oonlit valley bel[em stoodR""M&!, 4ly Ra, its S=s*ago, rank weeds she very doorstep chimney crQ)qto ruinq  -sashes vacant, a corneraroof c/!in1 boz*, half expectAo se. flit pas%Qindow n1ing 14 as befitte8 b:m y struck far of\Rthe rO Qe haua wide berth A*qway hom. r,Boods6 earward si_j Hill.4VI ABOUT noo$ 2 daNgG4tre=Ahad ffN"ir$Q. Tom impatien#go ;( Qwas mAablyc $alC%ly Lookyhere1 dowday it isbmentally ran%$V3eekhen quickly liftedG# a2led 3m--WI0once though,iE\un kKrR it pE conto m` a Fridap   can't be too careful8 A 'a'  1an scrape, :ing2Won a z MIGHT! Better say we WOULD!"'slucky days= $"ny BknowbP1YOUf2the:f 1it ;AHuckRn1said I was, did I? AndT all,.O_d a rotten bad3msdreampt1rat"No! Sure sign ofB F"ey{s'NotCgood% WL d*1ign  G,-2. A-_Udo is  by shark Zi Cdroph}5to-{ wplay. DuRobin Hg Who'sqWhy, he greatest m"evrEngland:the best. HGca robb Cracky, I wisht. Who did he robOnly sheriffs bbishop Crich2 RkingsR=9Q But naver bolloved 'em1divQ!upx 'em perfectly squa-h2'a'r Sa bri I 3youW[!Oh9qhe noblaaOT"R was.!men now, I can1youN R lick-can in ,a one he4iedD Ahim;NhEAtake!yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece"c, a mia3s a YEW bowIM /t7w, of cours.d if he hi| Bdime`Aedgepould set aand cr(2d cOB'll play!--nobby fun.AlearQF m% t\dfternoon, nowmy1casQ aa year=2eye#up qnd passs remark .1orr+prospect9Iibere. A5suna sink sey tookEway 5 aathwar| cshadowN6e,soon were buriAITsight8H(- Y On Saturday, shortlyV^  R bHnT4hadd&Ua chaCshaddEGir last hole*;]great hopeaGmere<oIqcases wz "pet#ad )(upafter getting down~qx inchep Y-O an some d1! aqand turZJt a single th{bshovel' Afail !isO a, howesDc+ BwentTfeeling jvshad notEds fortunehad fulfillep requirements <%of<71-hu(6. Rreach T 1{ so weirPv grislyBsile at reign^Rthe bAsun,{ bSdepre$Cbelines!dem"io he place[(3fra,# aHM Qventu7 ty creptD#do?!mbp_VT aw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastx;aan anc CfireVs, a ruinous staircaser#er%ud hung E#nd abandoned cobwebsn#tl73ed,MC ened puls,s, ears ale\BcatcYDXRsoundAmuscAenseQready instant retreat. In a+Nfamiliarity modTReir f Qy gavm,Qtical#iYsted examinC, rather admi+[bown boƑ Qwonde"at it, too. Nexk1up-+isMqlike cu]!goqdaring ; =! abe but I&!--L,=Sto a 02and scent. Up\NBame 53qcay. InpJoC a@d mystery"qa fraud1 inCr courag4xwAH4n hM Lo go down and begin#1hen}BSh!" CTom. is it?" Huck, blanchingrG!..re!... HearDa "Yes:#y!(!run!" "Keep1! D you budge! 're coming p! tcr 1doo #stC./Rfloorto knot-hole!th bushy white whiskers; long hair flowed from u!hiRbrero dGe green gogglesec7'Cn, " Xa low voice; @#sa gr$Q, facAback{sthe wal12the=er continued ^ s. His mann\less guarF{0words more distincFLproceeded: Q, "I'!it oB 5andi,& dangerouDR!" grTthe "e dumb"A--to#svast su?boys. "Milksop+2his~ 2gasQquakeEwas O!'s +<!swag we'veAleftr--leave it( &'v !'B. No2!o i.f!wet south. SixfCmDfift5Qver'sDto carry%eWell--#r EKG m No--but I'd say(j2 us#doe9:Alook; it may5(" bTI,6!e  J!! ; accidentsi !B; 'tY$inu2ver9;i6f%l[+qh+qit deepDGood idea !thrRqwho walv Qcrossroom, knelt#, gv"qhearth-/atook o9A1bag Q jing?qleasantLe subtracW9Qrom i0nڼcthirty#Dcs for G"as+6for8e latter, #s <,(Q8owie-knifeUforgo<,bmiserig$an@. With gloaq ,A mov7q. Luck!f splendor of Qs bey%sll imag+!qETmoney/Ato mcalf a dozen rich! H sd1theaiest a !esrNDabother uncertainty as to w44to }2y nudged each ;--eloquent)r easilyRstood simply meant--"Oh,you glad NOW we'rbB!" mVTknife%Uupon . "Hello!" C he.?2sai4Calf-e"plank--no, it'sy!x,4Rlieve1--b`!w 2see<Kfor. Never mind, qbroke a3 [2hisWbin and i p3ManDU  rhandful8$ingold. Thejb abovebas excW cmselveY!as delighted.NwRquick4Bv$ban oldM24over amongst >#)5sid"a--I sa5#a 74agohaX|iaBoys'5andn X1the$b, look5ly, shookUA mut4 toM3  5use5Abox aoon un$edXA not *R larg!#wad2bou:Bbeen+dstrong5the slow>s+Qinjur c|5the" ain bliss3. "PardrthousanL Shere,p. "'Twas alwaysX Murrel's gangCQbe aruone summer,".stranger observ53; "vs looksPHI2 sa* sNow you $neRjob." Ʉfrowned. Se: "You# me. Leasx&k"lla A. 'T@ robbery alv\ REVENGE!"a wicked R flameBhis GR"I'llyour helpRBWhen finishednn Texas. Go homH<NT#anK3kidM1b %0$Sell--Bqsay so;ew  w dthis-- k Yes. [Ravishing overhead.] NO!- e great Sachem, no! [Prof[distress;1I'd---at least4 \Smean =but Tom, si%1nlyhad testifiSVery,mPDfortBAalond! Compan!be a palpCimpr5, h . CHAPTER XXVIId adventur4"ayily torme RTom's5s . Four times hE!s !atSFnd f6ait was:rhingnes5igers as  !hi wakeful4bEfAt bae hard realit'Fhis 1. AClay |AmornO(1ecaincidentsJND, he noticed%~dseemedL4ly Hand far away--someD ;3had#tworld, MfAlong " b3 :n i5him u itselfa$3onetrong argumentW Bavorj is idea--namely,sc quantDcoin2fAoo vkAreal Qhad nTseen !as in one massShe wa1all "ag"st in life,&Aimag= call re\Os7!s""  " were mere fanciful formCaspeech Zno such sumP qlly exiEpposed forf w"so= a sum as a 6z be found in actualy one's Ԁ" Ianotion treasurbeen analyze.yxy=Ansis 'a areal dgand a bushel of vague,id, ungras{`A. BR^K"en Ssharp!clearer (Vattri !inTAthem?h so he"`1himk1leae(impressi6q#no2a dream, a )isQsweptg:~ snatch a hurried breakfast!go2fin.ik e gunwalB a flatboat, listlessly dang+2t !ee3"atbs2ingamelancholy. TomC&2letslead up@1 su e did not do its1be 2q `o!xEGelloylf." Silence ab-om, if we'd 'a'Y 4lam' a"Vtree,0!go D. Oh$! 1fulF $,Somehow I most'x. Dog'd if I ." "What!K%Oh6ing ).U"en"QDream! Iymss hadn' down you8)1how  Q!xhf%Deams|2allpL#--()[tch-eyedZ 1sh l4 gom*!thR 'em--rot himm1No,_a. FIND! T /1Tom#llXhim. A fellerq ~3one Q for a pile-- a2's lost. I'd feel1ry shakysee him, anyw+qso'd I;2I'd,2 2z#'Aut--&s < 1--y95N'Bthat2&7/!ouAit. !dofreckonB"oQtoo d62Say--maybe inRs$'"Goody!... No, rRain'tfv5, is one-hort!wn3 y=#noq,@so. LemmkKS Here r room-- QavernQ know;Qtrick s3two?s. We cansout qui You stay hereU,zI come." DAoff c1caracHuck's~rbpublic#s"as G!an hour& EbestNo. 2 had# a young lawyutill so-. In the l&astentaa housek! 2#a 5 -keeper'sr2son  kept lock$)ll3tim82he 4sawq go int W!or}(A exct;Ymny particular reason> x1gs;Er Come ' BsityD8bfeeble98wVe6r by ent"Ding % ae ideaC"roG "ha'nted"e  r a  !re[) BwhatOYD'Kvery No. 2"$af&/Qit isE$. ?C youqQto doNE_(ngE2tell yous$do "at" icomes out J1los )ey e!a3?Qtrap Jbrick stor"`qet holdmdoor-keys1nip-of auntie'=,Bdark'"goS ry 'em. And mi,n, because he E#!to/|2tow 4spy 3)N#a "to 6youjyou just fGQ him;_Rif he 2 go >"1laca"LordyI !fovhim by myself+hsit'll b%", ov"He\Dn't B youRdid, b4he'A any' "ifU8n. 3o-- 1YouE<cBdark!. 3'a' out he coul f< #ber,&DOCs so{1; IP, by jingoesw"'re TALKING! Don'7|bweakenaI won' sI THAT#1TomQILy hung a e neighborhooo{nine, one watch52he PAat a ="K1thePdoor. NoF"orN Rit; n%aresembp2the 5ard=3te#Th promise]`fair one; sowent home`rat if adWAegre,Adark1cami AcomeT"maowupon he would slipthe keysE aclear,XmAclos2s(Tretiryan empty sugar hogs0welve. Tuesdac/&amE. Also Wedn/Thursday bbetter8"in$.sf0aunt's old tin lant 6 Qtoweldrlindfol 1ithh? <1 inp-'s began. A WB mid#v!upB2its1s ( !s 'd"s)!pu)*%02had Eseen+Dhad / }b. EverrV,3iou"Bblac5of SreignA peruQstill#waVbruptedby occasional/)#ofAt th<ggs1liti n~,=tl: Bowelx&wo2rs D A glokw>y.stood sentryrTom fel3wayZTjz  !of8ing anxiety$weighed iga(a mountainh$%sh?ra flashH$ C--it.f"en!buZO6ell- alive yet. I4s1Tomdisappeared. Surely"us Ded; &A was7`+!rtQaburst #D'Band ,G'1 In4auneasi L rdrawing-DrK a; fear rdreadful ] $/1ari1pecm0some catastroph 2Atake 1792not&to,]$heUable to inhale it(imbleful- TK$ar Athe beating. S1Tn"ofh%tEby him: "Run!"he; "runAyourt!" He needn',Q repe drit; onc ;#mairty or forty miles,RrepetCwas -3. Tj!tor  "J1sheʁerted sl#1er- e lower en/the villagxa By goin its shelter]Sstorm xrain poubwn. AsxJ] 0AHuckwas awful! I t3twob keys, aas sofI R; butsto make of racket=rdly get myRso scBT1bn't tuVck, either. Well,?!ou.Ticingkboing, I tookcthe kn!A ope@e !H&E@R! I h1in,!sh5fP, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST What!--whatQ'seo1steFonto's hand!" "NoAYes!A#Ras ly s%asleep oARfloor4?Aold 5"ey his arms sprea[d1did Tdo? D0Bke u91 budged. Drunk, 2. IjUgrabbBAowel F+usIX'a' thoughS33tIx. My aunmby sick3alost iM A"Say,1box!diw@o_00.-}44 /8 .:ea bott|Sdtin cu 6 by(!; I saw two barrelslots moreUs S.u2now'!Fmatt'3at R roomTr!it mG o1ALLaTemperTYs have got aeC, hepd[3Who8u? But sAnow'Rightyt 1timg&ifqb's dru""Ithat! YouiQshuddIEno--"nom5And-B not3. O1  alongsidf, :u'< three, h  -&@oaTp*for reflectioZ+ S:38oky82les#tr 1 an#e}wwcR Joe'5'reQscaryhw eSnight# bp"su2 go  "orbwe'll Gbox quicker'n nJV<the wholBlongj%ido it 1too3you"<Ather4$"A= bill. A.v!to{"tr0Hooper Street a block EmaowWRthrow:bgravel=e0 3bfetch 1T"Agre01goo'Awhea*B"Now,  T's ov*bgo hom2gin" , %Qcoupl" +2"go61will youe!I TJ]t5#Ryear! Ev "damF&st2allIawooo[nǑ' hayloftZTlets nqso does pap's nigger man, Uncle JKA toteex  B wheahe wan`" t}JA any I ask him QzQves mGiBsomeBto eWhe can spare  !ik\r, becuzP'[" aL Bwas 3;him. SometimeQset rdeat WITH/1But  A body'sv!thwhen he' sr: 1n'tBas a steadyd-wXK,q"le.?A com hAS's up2'!, Cskip, @*."*IX THE firsR1earQ4QFridan glad piecnews --Judge ThG's familyL*7- before. Both 9o &Bsunksecondary import, and Beckyv the chiefCboy'="esSsaw h%tad an exhausi&1pla "hi-spy"c"gullyu!" $da crow2ir S-mate1day^scomplet[DRcrownsa peculi9satisfactory way:!ea[Aer mK to appointnext day foUlong-z1and\-delayed picnicfshe consentechild'>boundless;,Xore moderat.R invi*slAsent^s sunsettraightwayA AfolkLn4Ra fevapreparu(bpleasu6qanticip6's q enable90" ap dntil aQlate houh%%:vt!ofd1ingO4's s!an(ahaving to astonish1nickers with,2; b\3was$"oiNo signal c'vC. Mqcame, eBallyby ten or eleven o'cQ giddq rollic!c;/!ga  4_s -ro.UQustomelderly peop2 ma#;p$*!ce2ren@sed safe R unde9AwingAa feh"1dieeAe# gentlemeqtwenty-  sreabout1oldqm ferryboatQchart;t7! g<.flJ9r main sg Cladeprovision-baskets. Sid1andato mis/ fun; Mary remain!hovBtainT9nTMrs. 6 "tob, was:d7?oBback lIaPerhap H Astay   eRgirlslive neah"-lQ,c !y aSusy H,q, mamma+AVeryO. And mind !bey%yourself3bmR9T." P,"trQalong` 1: "Say-- 2you8 ntQ'Stead 3Joe2's *SclimbE!up AhillDstop` Widow Douglas'. She'll ice-cream! SsoJ"os Ai!--|+Aload8"it4sH#be t&!usg"Oh[ K/2un!?=nC%ed3But2illA say How'll shH6Rknow?^Q girl!edidea over a1r reluctantly(it's wrongK3--"shucks! Youg ! k REo!'sQharm?_sN1nts[!hao '"Bsafe4I b 1'a'" 6if IAwoulT splendid hos"itaa tempP 2baiand Tom's persuas02car+S q. So it>u Qay no? anybody?t 's programme. i1 itv(!rrJM)^7+''XAgiveZ ;took a deaV%s!ofAs. S"het&I"tolmfun atAnd why sh1he 5!it: h"qsoned--/c! W, so Ti2mor l^>o-night? T6QrA eveV 4out6theM1, boy-lik2 determined to yiel +5Aclin Tnot a{9t Qk of 0ox of money5  day. ThreeVbelow >EboatayAmouta woody hh& 1ied|3The* swarmed ashoreAorest distancescraggy hxs echoed farQshoutDand 95theØ1get!ho " Egone=y mry-and-barovers Sggledao camp31ifi th responsible appetitesVt destrucHJ" "L>2 feoC!reBFFing ( 2resbchat i2shaspreading oaks. BAsomef[ed: "Who' the cave?" Ever!wa5$. b of ca \Bproc   a general scamperhT+x0' hillside--an opshaped likO A. Its mass׎2ake&& !unbarred. WK small chamberM Aly a2ice" w0by Natur% solid limeston w 1a c& rweat. I1romJmysterious!t %erdeep gloom/look out upr!grKC'"sh--""un?1O6!ve!UDly wore offdQrompiDL2ganjIcment al]  Frush2ownit; a struggugallant~f1ed,62ursoon kn)/or blownlad clamop and a new chaseB3allQ havex(ndlrocession (!fiv(eep descenW4ain avenue,p!fl0qing ranGOVs dimly reveaYf!llqrock al5t1ir er of jun sixty feet overhead. Thisnot more than "en?Cwide?&nSstepsy%ill narr crevices bran@!from it on--for McDougal's`Rbut a%D7imepqraft.  blready.w's went gliW# p a wharfCAhear!noise on board(   C3as $usually are whornearly cto dea.AwondnQwhat 1de:Rstop w<<dropped her88'put his atten *rusiness`Bclou dark. Ten eKf vehicles ceased, sca) abegan ,#nk !ll 2foot-passengerkp |)1 be$itt)l <2lef| = qwatcher qthe silae ghosts. E  Swere /;/ Qevery$A$it1see weary long 2:b)u3},ed. His faith wasB4bing. Wvy use? "reA Whyk)C? AFfell~"ea;&l U instantQ Bdoord*^Tprangqx8$ Ti two men br,%onW- z Runder!rm0 ]Cbox! So sto remoE.Bcall Tom now?Ibe absurd--1en  get awayq #$anc7EDNo, c stick1!ire!foAthem<k5truP for security^discoverQcommuG3Rmself#*!ut Eglidg 2beh!e men, cat-like,qbare fe~!ll_E the8*5far&!noqbe invi  y |GP q blocks0n^ left upJ2ss-8y?"E,!qcame to% !pa}1Cardiff Hill;5Ctookfthe old Welshman's Whalf-m(hi-1hes!ng Qclimbward. Good, 5*VSdury itold quarryC) "stfa &-3on,b summixy plung.T7 qn I fouqoing to sneeze. It wH meanest kind of luck! I tro keep it backCno use --'twas bj!toPait did!i*Q leadB my T rais3theQ starhose scoundrels a-rustleget oupath, I sung out, 'Fir!!'cblazed6d place5he aqwas. So"1. B<"ey"2offrjiffy, svillainwe after[ ,uQroughqwoods. I judge we n4atouche|myd a shot apiece y4 their bullets whizzed bydo us any harm. AkRwe loVB sou$Twe quit chasD"ntand stirred constablesgot a posse togetherHoff to guar river bank&bit is Eaheriff1a g |7S beat}Ms}them pres} . I wish wzA somNose rascals2H bhelp adeal. ButBcoulaee whadrlike, i!Adarkppose?" "Oh yes; I sawk$-tAfollc AthemSplendid! D!be8"--d AOne' 1 olfdumb Spaniat's ben ar>here once or twiceqt'othermean-lookQragged--" "TPo men! Happeng Dthem1R backqe widowC e  qy slunkR. OffAyou,  fA--ge to-morrow Y  J 2dep!at _Aleavhe room Huck  exclaimed:!, re don'tANYbody it Fblow1R! Oh, e2Allr say it gyou ought to havecredit of byou diOh no, no! S!" W young menhg x A saiT- I3why1you- it known?  not explain,Q thanK"ay Rhe al 0too muchy "on3 "me`+1manU Manything against hime whole world--uld be kill knowingasure.  promised secrecy3morW1How1youq to fol hese fellowsa? Were}  Ding &usea!t while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then hec y u, I'm aS lot,--least yrsays soIdsee nopRin it@sometimes I can't=much, on #1ink] !it}1tryo strike a new way of do7"ay u ' I,nAo I  r up-street '1mida, a-tu~2 itxvyD 1 goAthatshackly brick store byTemperance Tavern, I3 Red upO"!an4".  Qalongo"s ftwo chaps slip %lose by me,;1unddreir arm'I reckonV y'd stole it. OneAa-sm3S one d al sstopped.\ !meigars lit upBfaceIog Cig o?theeA, bywhite whiskerQ Bch o-#eye rustyo a." "CmDragst #?" This staggqfor a momentAknow  somehow i#msCIQ "on2you<Fb'em--y eiO"toup--they sneaked so. I doggTAwiddCstilnAstooBthe Und he aFvone begK5theX swear he'd sp;rr looks?!asdll2two What! The DEAF AND DUMB1all had maderrible mistake! H6qhis besA1keeE2man1getHsthe fai+i1 whR might bQ1yettongue seemed determi him into trouble in spitball heFr do. He several efforts to creepof his scrape, but -'dS!upumh["bl 4. P\ L ,# be afrai!me 6 hurt a hair obqr head v3. No--I'd protec !.  z is not;"leNout intend+ D1cov 2now|  Uthat  dark. Now trust me--tell mI Cit i"3 -- betray you. Alookit!ho5Eeyesoan bentKA andpiar: "'Ta--it's Injun Joz ) almost jumped chair. In%  1ll ,pe qyou tal#Anotc:"eaHB slinoses I judge(your own embellishment 3men3tak1sorYrrevenge "an #! a different matter al2." DuringB1theVAc Y  t{s trwhich h1onsSdone,_ to bed,a lanter qexamine,)its vicinity for marks of blood11y fMnv ut captured a bulky bundle of-- "Of WHAT?" IfqBwordBbeenn 3hey leaped withcqre stun0BnessAblanlips. His Astar1ide3Qreath=ended--wao!fo8q answer )tarted--stLin return--1seconds--fivAten nd i<f burglar's tools. Why,!'sAbMATTERDyou?4Csank,1pang6 deeply, unutterably grateful eyed him gravely, curiously(NYes,1appto relieveoB Butcdid gi# urn? WhatYOU expecBwe'da \ja inqui1eye* for material$ a plausib<cswer-- suggesteR?elf|!boadeeper --a senseless1y o~dKRno tiRweighio at a venture he --feebly: " -school books, maybe." Poor>%too distress ma  laughed loud1joy6t, shookadetail[his anatomy1heacBfoot%! b;(at such armoney in a-pocket, ait cut octor's bill likeqAadde1old,y2re Zaand ja5Byou awell a bit--no wo 8a little f #of8 cbalancyou'll comejsit. ResBleep6Afetcall right_#brritat1 heSaBgoos!ed{! a)!ic%es4forHQdroppbe ideaarcel bt2AvernQreasu a talk XW ahad on &"nod however "ha82n't!soFt%a @Amuch:elf-possessionuo [! hat gladh. Shad hntSnow h9beyond all qu6snot THE,!so mind was at rkexceedingly comfortaban factC Q drifbjust i direction;A musw still in No. 2 zy!ilybat dayhATom a seizeo3golx \1out !or fear of interruption. Ju# was compledea knoc9#l ` 0 hiding-"noX connecte!n remotely1lat admittedtQladie gentlemen, amo*Widow Dougla Tnoticngroups of citizeny aclimbihill--to 7 S\news had spreadh(h the stor$ visitor#gratitudeer preservatiooutspoken. "DoQay a # it, mada3 ]ara behol\&o-Tre todmy boyc#he ballow Atellname. We An't v2butim." Of 4thi&uriosity so va|"at"be1d tV#in )twa to eaAvitaT his !th them be trans }Dtownb refus"BpartjCcretorall els> qlearnedO < I #to`2reaJn"and slept straia noise Rake m:$Wegrn't worth1. T"dlikely! !--!ha2anyG A lefAwork pwX as the u1 waG4youDscarto death? My Qnegrostood guard sr houseeLBy'veAcome ." More!C cam"beuaand re G couple of hours more.G tSabbath d 1vac was early at churchy 1ing$  canvassed. NewV#n Dsign5two! qyet dis#edthe sermfinished, Judge ThatchEwife alongsidMrs. Har s she moved1 Qaisle;-BcrowqIs my Becky>all day? I !edhB tiraBYourS(RYes,"a;!tlp Sok--"esa2youIQnightEQ!noa kced palhBsankba pew,as Aunt Polly, Cisklwa friend, pG by.64qGood-mo), /. 'got a boy up missing.o my Tom st Qlast !#--7you. AndY $'snvQto se q  "he H andar than d. "HeB$us(`b, begi !to uneasy. A marked anxiety~'s face. "JoeVSuyou seeK?Y1No'b"4did3A himv?" Joe&aremembu)not sure!2sayWQpeopl*ped moving %ofWs}Ralonga boding Aines &k 1 ofzy countencChildr!B anxc +7!bteache!ey1saiDnot ; !wh|%A Tom Dw#Q boar9 ferryboa. a homewDrip;]"dark; no one 'of!if  .!On!ngfinally blurt2his  2the  Zcave! swooned awa f#2o crringing'Bands alarm swep6lip to lip,Agrou 2to  within five minuteCbell wildly cla6he ="upCardiff HillEinstant insignificance,Oxforgotten, horsesaddled, skiff4man !BrderRbefor horror was half an old, two h)d1pou down highroa river toC. A Blong|)1nooge seemed emptydead. Many women (ed9#an4+@ 51y cAthem."wa/ql betten words. tedious'-2Bews;"heA dawqt last,  was, "Send candlesrsend food."4wasbcrazede.{, also. sent messages! !peencouragV,qconveyereal cheT#]3h4'BdaylAspat1 -grease, sm3Bclay worn outJHuck#be cprovid2himTAdeliQfever@ physiciano4allrcave, s a came ook chargg "ient. She ! s B herb4,'h-@, bad, or in,"the Lord'sKu!Ho\Anegl\   good spots inQ-!(You can depen5i"8at'don't leave it off. He never does. Puts"2ome?.$onQreatu!at>(Bhis TA" E AforeRparti Qbegan ctraggl< bGllag strongeswEthe qcontinuxAarch gBnewsbe gaineBness]% being ransack7been vis;Y S cornAqcreviceY1tho#ly#edCv%4z"pax!, [`c fq hithert Bdist@qhouting0-shots sent 9h:)1bervthe ear Ssombr Qs. In&ar1sec21usu. rtravers/touristsnames "BECKY & TOM"btraceds,2cky'#Csmok near at hand a =1-sob9 ribbon.   recogniz'e%k4hover ii7crh. !ofCchilAno omemorial )@be so precious Q this parted latest the living h*6T! c.S80 1at 5und then/a far-away speck ofog glimm*&rn a gloKDshou)Aburs!thbaa scor'men go tro:e qthe ech@4zca sicke disappointment always f!e  F$0 donly a#r'1t ree dreadfu`nights d#0 ]% jt # a hopeless stupor. N 0. The accidentaly, just made,groprietorS Temperance T3kept liquor)premises, scarcely flEthe public pulse, tremendous Qe fac&5qa lucid%Rrval,lbsubjec3a asked--dimly e worst-- . rsince hz#Eill.phcidow. 1tSup inr#bild-ey1tWhat? W$i}Lm;lace hasyshut up. Lie dA--whAturn&+!1me!~32nlyl1"meQing--&one--please! Was itxqSawyer BThe qinto te>"Hush, h !Byou 5 must NOT talky'Bare very sick!zAn nox 1rFBhaveI t powwow if i the gold. Sctreasu2gon Sgone !}7tshe be bout? CuM +@TR.As woD1dimu/5$3min^uF the wearhey gave him h(|?&. o herself: "There--h/poor wreck. find it! Pitysomebody !KA! AhGn't manya's got  ^5or strength either, to go on| ing." CHAPTER XXXI NOW to%1 toZ's shareapicnic*y tripped athe murky Vr rompany,Z  familiar !eI$--bdubbedXrather over7Cptiv8 ,!s "The Drawing-Room,"Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace,"y\so on+ hide-and-seek frolicking b Qengag* it with zeal until!exertionDrow a trifle Asomen6 a sinuous avenue hol-/kf #tangled web-work of Idates, post-office addrU rmottoes~) g walls rescoed (in ). Still drift3Urand talf8Ck M1now$B par!H! w+tq. They b2ownPK!anph1she[.ed,yD 2 to'"ce 2 a am of watrickling over a ledgkQcarry limestone sedimenVuit, had Qslow-y 81gesm3= and ruffled Niagara in gleam5nd imperishabAone.%squeezed his smallP h in order to illuminate i q's gratt#"He rit curta,steep natural stairwaywas encloZ etween na9ce the ambi Ya r"bd him. respondehis call,1hey_ " aM-mark for fueGguid oqir quesAey w "waBthatXAinto depths ofL  2Bmark#br,?( of novelties to @!the upper worl! $on Qa spa sr, from 1cei3muld"aof shi stalactit" land circumferenc7"a (1leg) 1kedG" OQadmir_2and"2ntl}SAnumerous Aopen#toi artly bm Qbewit2 sp}Rbasint(dncrustsa frosta glitt crystals Amidsa|>rted by rfantastic pillarsR ?Q8"joof great katalagmCtogehe resul1eas  -drip of centuries. UnIZaof vast(tw/"atfp themselvwaousand#qa bunch(s+2urb flockings 4 byrs, sque"and darting f  FCkneww4the danger%isbconduc#'snd hurried herthe first corridorDffern qoo soon)Q a ba#Duck gGits wing# she was passu! ci bats chasm r 1oodQance;> ,ugitives plungnevery newr9age!atR> r5the perilous 7 ubterranean lake,,a stret?its dim 3way !it@ pqlost inshadows. He wantLexplore its b;,0t conclurbe best to sit#Ast a!, !. I!fo A timbe deepA lai&Rlammygb spiri@*Why, I didn't ,it seems1so gI heard any!ot+q" "Com bthink,kB2aresdown be?am--and:!n'=Qw howKCnortT #ou AeastQwhichit is. W4ldn't heaWmH2." . grew apprehensi2"I B how4we'here, Tom? WemUstart%G2"w'. P'raps,!anb!y#aybBIt's" mixed-up crooked qto me."reckon INCit--0qbats. IyI s/ ll be anuqfix. Le!ryRso asqo go thV$ tqB"Wel3 I hope we won't get lost. I8"soz!!"5the girl shudd!*possibilities"eyasi 1sila  way, glancat each2opePcto seeKIook of itMyall strange. EItime Tom Qn exa 3ionczQwatchW+Aface %ansing sig72say4ilyEir(#is2cthe on)$we1 f 0 away!" Butat less bhopefuPrfailure c3urn to divergvenues at sheer random, in desperate }dof fin \ 1saiwas "all !,"!AsuchBaden1 atRheartb2ord.trand souv Tas ifsaid, "All i#!"Qclungais sidan anguish of fearTt!ar" keep backU Oscome. A5she;Oh, Tom,/C1, l2!goqway! WeW.ret worsH 1off!iListen!"{ he. Pro; so deeps"ev#ir9_were conspicuousBhushnSshout}EK- 5mptXand died\ O in a faint resembled a rip+m laughter. ado it *-# hG ,* . "It isI<;Qmight2 usBknoww j/Bgain[! "6"^ pa chilliJ"rr 0Q ghos , it so confess;&2ope Sstoodand listened; y#no V*Drackn  is steps!as56  Q a ce  indecision inDmanner revean;rfearfuli"to$ C--he1notE1way!u?!ke marks!" "1, Irfool! S IJ1we   %e|T No--G`6ay.1mixQ." "Qwe're! #We1can  "is ! Oh, why DID we U"{ Q!" S!nk,Qhe gr8andrenzy of1thaHV'dappall 8$sh(1die alose hason. He sa !byband puGarmsM; "bu"erDq bosom,"Cpourrher terrors,Eunavailing regret ar echoesU em all to jeES beggto pluck upD9s+"nofell to bl1abuqhimselfD)is miserable situ;!ha,etter effec  1try*Cope A4get-2bfollowEver lead if only he W1not Q likebore. FN:m)+An sh5S. So\--aimlessly--simply at!--!do!toF, keep moving ,\  show of reviving--noU3anyback it4XAits O4e w !spht been take( kSg'2ity- Q. Byb0X#'s ^ 1bleI$ou economy meanmuch! Words not needed9Qunder,ope diedUT. She@SjauNthree or four pieces in his pockets--yeB Cmust)iz, fatigue&aassertaclaimsEdrenn+ pay attenJ !foH2was !fuAthin sDCdown1imemBgrow precious,x some dirp%Gany Qwas aist progr4 bear fru6 ato invite5!!enpursuit. +frail limbs 7^er farthersat downsr.AhL$yed of hom 3the\3Ts the t0qmfortab`dU a, abov,!5b cried5Tom=bome wa_] 11all*#Sementhreadbarez#us like sarcasms. Fo*Z heavily uponshe drows!Tf to !omgrateful !at52ing?her draw=eaw it grow smoo#al0the influ4of p^1ms;K&bVa smile dawnedh Speace e reflected *an$@Fhealcis own,!%is`! Sato byg1ime#y'!es@3$ley Wmo#s,rwoke upa breezy littleF stricken deansher lip]sa groanC1ed lA"Oh,WrCOULD I:Z4ish , had waked! No! No, I don'tR b! Don' 1 soF5say  2I'm@dKSslept; you'll feelR, now#fi&@!utVWe can tr!I'G#en beautiful4ry in my$. DQt we are+6Maybe not, m 1. C#upkoP"They rosa An?K51hanG1andAlessyJ to estimate!lo}.!eyK/R#Awas Re>0Cweek9!ye"qwas plaT"at bnot beccandleAnot cyet. A&im7\tis--the# 5ellR--Tom qgo softlyo for dripp`BaterZ3 aMf rresentlsatb. Bothcruelly tired, ye CssMfuld go 73Qurprio.Tom dissenD F2not>!st8D !ey'2 fae-bin froPBthem{sclay. T6oon busy;G'1aid* 7Atimeh^broke the:I am so hungr5JT . "Do you remembd4Bis?"4he.Zbalmost1d|'s our wedding-cakeMSYes--as big as a barreli"goaI saveA&"us to dream onyF1way$n-up people do'll be ourSS"pp<Q sentPw Bdivi#Re cakw 3 atT2appetite,Tom nibbled a:amoietys abundak "co"RfinisfQ with. By-and-b= Gtey move on 'yilent a mom"qThen he:z1can/ rit if In1you #?"8"'s4pal}`B. "W.F]{1stamB!er Bre's ink. Thatw " iClast6 ! gave loos)w_#diA{3to  "buz$AtU%!""?")y'll miss uKChunt4rwill! Cl"!ithey're hun Ror us,laDare.Bhen $S"Whby get o the boatnMit might be dark then--enotice w .n't comenbIaanywayN2r m1K8you"b=1got q." A fAened 2 in"brfSsenseRe sawh made a blundervw%Zhh2hat98! Tebecame$nduful. In a new burst of grief21 sh 1hat"ing1strT7ers also--QCR:half spent before Mr atcher discov M_"at/Harper's. 2 tU !bi & *"aifaSunday "--aMondayt!to!to1, br sorrows woo oppressive,sh+p 8gon*$ha!!mi3 2agorno doub:)Bwas a !onM $on1it; }!%esso hideouswbat he 2$itG!waa5ger1torX,K [/s A portio0h z was left; Band ,.~+ iD poor morsel of food only whetted desir c SQH! DiuAthat qoth hel " aqe faintest, far-offq. InstaG*C!swYul|/ M)Uhand,@"*gr7 corridor ia4. P  ;.BV%Qappar($ a/ BnearU DthemdTom; "coming! Come"-- b now!"54joy,rprisone overwhelmFTspeed was slow, R, UpitfaC Tcommo"O1be vK"edscVhortl"on28vstop. I  V!fev-Vep, i a hundred'B%no)iUsany rat"go" oabreastreached asT1dowfquld. No bottom3 =EGwaitw21ers8 @q; evide{3inggqgrowing Rt! a b or tw2hadZ $al+}2t-se :+2it!choopedhgShoars$$Wof no use!t.ahopefu RQan aganxious wai Jqand no ?+9Q4 !grMh QwearyZ ;c"ey;`vQfamistnd woe-!3c beliebe Tuesday _!isp. Now an ideaH i5"re!so !deages nea hand. It $be*? $se!ar!weR heav Adlen"He+a kite-line) +3, tto a proje*TT, Tom#lead, unwinding the hUQalong8?nabtwenty!ended in a "jumpingqplace." Qkneesqfelt beBand =Qaroun\xA! r&(is handsvE!ni;[ qn effor  Eyet a right I #atT, not Qyards ,"ma,6# a,\"edzBrockAlift!: a "?i^Y6was e4iTnged to--aq Joe's! aralyzed)U1notwas vastly 4eF nex)the "Spaniard"m ris heelDget s)#om",E Rat Jo8notAshis voicome overM_llbestify b court^&!9 qdisguis!e cQ. Wit@ ,w=R, he 1  Q weakAever4cle2bod W%to( : `,!,qnothing  mpt him to ru risk of mee+}He was care kO " h2see btold h!"ha ted "for luck=.!ut:1wre- 1ris3AeriowUfearsong run. Ang5teda' Tsleep4q change$dtortur$a raging wWday or Thur"or'3FriTSatur1, aa been givenQpropo5(sAwillo!nd8JQrrors8+1eryfhad su S!drRapath;"A rouT#Sh!ou_!it,"$"asrdie--it, NLmK3o gn7theQand explorekb chose ashe imE'w5peak to herjhim promit#/Atime L"bhh@$an 1allRover.ek Qa cho5Asens%" ia 1thr; $ being conf ->rURscapetthe cav=h :ent Bone )   h62and?,z DressAick 1bod #of  doom. CHAPTER XXXII TUESDAY$Cnoon!anKCtwilshe villL St. PetersburgJ+!mo + Flost)$$haund. Public prayers61 up@Qthem,"2manc privateB he petitioner's whol  t>no good new the caveqmajorit c  up the que  ir daily avocas, sayFQlain @c3KB!Mr)very ill1a great par ( delirious. P)AbreaVto hear her. BhildeQraise2heae&minute at a!, lay it wearilyQgain a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped inNfWd melanchogray hai "!grUYA whi1wen6 1its!5 one n& sforlorn. Awa!the middl M a wild peal]Nb bellsK[ %moTswarmingfrantic half-clad pT, whowA, "T2Vut! t F " Tin panChorn 6addBdin,iAopul massed g}*!to t1met=in an open carriage%"byaitizendrongedA it, joined itsWRmarchdswept magnific? Q main et roaring huzzah* !was illuminated; nobodyDto b;ar3est(t!tt w0Cever_ 2Dur%re firsthour a proc@e4 ofars fil rough Judge-'s house,f<n"sa+,ejsqueezedt'", to speak butn't--andC2"raX>t 1all K& c"ppG Kd nearly so5[ a messe AdispSdkH#2cav2!ld"!or 1usbNTom lay 0aa sofaXWauditory abou qand tol~A his!ofwonderful adjB, puR+"inAstri1add adorn it1"al JCutdescripahow he%tent on Bexpel;7'Btwo Fs!as0* ARa thi^aullest4tchM3wasT"to !heOCpsedOtoff speh6Clook*A day ;"#liCOit, pushed6shoulders!cA sma;&l1sawbroad Mississippi ro by! And if it5 F0Cappe #beVhU@ !se* 2at %of/A d[ A anyB! HeCc7for/I%j @ 2himoAo fr.r$such stuff, $  &# w Sto diR~?ɆU laboher and convincg %"hoe@Q died1joy A she  actually>lueG he >1way4 1$"lp2 ou?gAat t]for gladness+some men a8Qskiff cTom haI!em G33con rddidn'tE=qild talfirst, ""," qthey, "Q"$re]2les> bhWavalley cave is in" naboard, rowa""gam supperqGthem rest G 1two4hreDdarkn~thome. B!day-dawn,=q handfu% Ahim Rtrackg,5R+twine clewyctrung +sformed A. T+# }BtoiluPi~Rbe sh3'ffA9s#Foon " y bedriddenf}5and~uto grow QBwornP ><2got,MV, on e"wa- {a"as  d"di8her room1Sun34sheQas if 1hadT'edk1wasaillnes#$omi of Huck's sickRto seoAbut be admitDthe bedroom;"Uhe onB or H-!ft a"6bwas wam8; s introduce no exciQtopicL Widow Douglas staye1thaKaobeyed/Ahome?the Cardiff Hillrt; alsoDthe "ragged man's" *  n%$ ;6 erry-landing2had7Adrow&\trying to , perhaps. About a fortiVrescu E, he a visit:yi#plGrong enough!tocR talk2Tom'Aintel:.., A waswm,t " ome friends sex(P%2oneW him ironicsqn't lik%)go@ y10he thoughqRn't mqO Xsaid:+!reothers jusuQyou, )3I'v| ast doub#)Ave t3caraat. NoAwill !atA anyH*)*Because Iits big do $atb boiler ironP weeks agoriple-lockedO"goTbkeys."tj2ite.asheet.1at' matter, boy! Here, run,qbody! FDvaa glasL1!" "* gba!!thCinto|face. "AvEW1a M#Oh,']cave!UII WITHIN a fewj2new1spr.%b dozen b-loads3nq @!to McDougal'sEb~well fill#pak"s,5 CSawy[deDD bor4. -bbwas un4,%rrrowfulF*Celf sqdim twi xD lay^1ed )@1, dPrwith hiQ closrthe cra} "th!if/longing f+dfixed,>clatest,,s cheer CfreeQcoutsidwas touchedd vQprice8CdropVQis da(e !t patheticslow-droppVBater@!hey8e1seeb!< .b's cupC6Ts firde list2cavern's marvels; 4b" cannot rival i 4xKn,VQ mout6 2aveI flocked in boatsfwagons|3towAfrom:the farm1 hamletsseven miles|3ySrall sorAprov~NsUOA4hadas satisfactory!e funeral yDT1 ha Y%is5%heBgrow[#oni#1 toagovernIrcpardon*$]qlargelyT2ed;Q2teatnd eloquent meet $he#a committeJCsapptfkBo inrRF%1ingjSwail timplore*be a merciful as trample his dut| Gfoot/h0!;kfive citizenwt&R, but+idat? If. ASataC Cself$/!ofl)SlingsRto scribblir names-a tear on itLir permans impair Rleaky{Q-work"2TomAvHuck to& gave anRtalk.3!haw1rneQ aboum'the Welshmant, cis timYq>s!? old him; R  5he TS talk2now'saddenedw bI know0j[rYou got5QNo. 233 anbut whiskeytold me itAyou;aI justp must 'a' ben ]usoon as\'fA bus|"em8q hadn'tt)ney becuzdl!go!me ! w Dand aif you1mum,dB els's alwaysG4we';dget hoatat swag,3, I-It-keeper. YOUF -" I"DD.mI D1youHAto w   yes! Why, it seems!ag#8> CI folleredK-YOU foll1him2Yes]2youqcmum. ISS"'s;Q2himI don't want 'em soV Bon m me mean 6s. If itpben for me he'5V ain Tex@&w,1hens entire+%in-5Aonly* Oit beforel4ellTHuck,s4ly,'!ba@ main question, "whoever nipp "in(, --anyways it's a g.afor us;Gq wasn't~n!;Bat!"Lphis comradekeenly. "Tom6Rgot o+twQagainti1 cave!" cblazed. "SayM FgainT*"Tom--hone 1junf--is it funV!strEarnest;!--^$as# f ! ILlife. WiF#go"reAhelpZRit ounsI bet IxE2 ifwCRe can5 ouV  6"doDwith dlittleBatroubl the worl?aGood aat! What makesAthin["RF's--2you;rtill wef!re#we1mit I'll aqto givelqmy drum76ing&Cq I will0QjingsA!--va whiz. [!doh1say "Ri$w,say it. Ar 4IW#ar ? I ben o-cpins a,"oradays, tbut I caKlk more'n a "--IAI$.">q #to"thqanybodyRm 1go,^Qmight,Drt cK]  N ; ,qri.bskiff.&2flo] ["re I'll pullj2ackby myself A neeqturn yourq$Q over2Lw2artA offm@B. We`&bT32eatour pipes bag or two T%kite-string8`u ese new-fp!thA ycall lucifer m+rs. I te, !'s2Atimetbshed I2omeD" Aq%the boys borU&) #a W B whoU Cbsen(got undec^were sev` below "Cave H%," R: "NNis bluff herJ$s!AalikA2way_5--no houses, no wood-yards, busheRU. ButO"ee5whi4 Rup yok#'s4 landslide? Well,!'sof my marks. We' aashore.yG97inU're a-sta#8'rq hole I bout of~Qa fispole. See#4can.BiRplace1P proudly mar"a clump of sumachncc: "Heare! Look at i;athe snuggesDis country9 "ll2Drwanting/ a robberrknew I'rto have1ng 3thi'o !itvAther!ve1it :&2'llit quiet,1let< K:aBen RoU1Cin--*$ o@ be a GangC #lsj* any styl it. Tom Sawyer'sA:1sou$plendid,L?  "it3doe And who'c1rob/aOh, mo6. Waylay people--that's$$lyRnd ki "No-@Q. Hivm# t4y26a ransomUWoCMoneg3makR<y can, off'$ir{ b; and you've kep.m#ityXV2. T!enkway. Onlyb women1shu`9 2men5Cm. T5Fb beautqnd rich awfully scaredgt"irI!es5sZStake t|+"nd4pol7y!3 as3 ass --you'llMany book. cto lovX)%ey,m s a week y stop cr!eRto le'i4dro Ay'd  { Raroun2com9. It's so insy real bully' $ Ibdbetter'n a piratQC"YesF&^7way Cit's6"!toQQccircus\!at{@y+ %;1andaboys ew)#ho\  l0Qy toi#*qarther 7tunnel, then=yspliced 1 fadK$a on. A&E QpringY Tom felt ams quivert" him. HeQCragm> -wick pexSon a oC cla$De wa; t2ox*_ d flame struggl)AexpiQTf!ga4 to whispers,1for#st-Tgloomm3opp[>bspirit yYBpres:ar 0LRuntil 5reaAGWndles%rhe factx not really a, 3pica steep DhillFirty feet highW @eW+2Now@ AshowY.  Ae he+sa aloft+` sNAorne7ban. Doi!ee? There--0big rock over$ S--donK-R3TomCqa CROSS2NOWZ '{ r Number Two? 'UNDER THE2,' hey?  2's eI saw &# p`+d stareA mys Qign afB6R shaky voice:qless gi} " o QWhat!>treasureVRYes--6it.'s ghost is  ere, certain."B 81, nKB. It Q ha'n{k8Qhe di,Away /% 2&--z 2her!NoS \wouldy#ng.4"ofV #so & &omi3feaXBHuck-,aMisgivm!ga+d}CR mind 7LQoccurYso him--)ym/nSfools m@of ourselves! & a 8|; Z!a = !R poinG #wen1had)teffect.I6_"atA #so/EluckxQthat {7 isJ VS AhuntG4box5wen77c  cones. X$nn:N  says"--Dcuffed Sid's {i 0k8q"Now go"if2arenQto-moFit!" Som Autes'GSguest a supper-tab[$ua dozen@/"pr!upittle side;F1e sixQoom, {t1at r vAbproperl Amadev4 speech, iY!!heOkNHB honPQF [T was Dwhose modesty-- A: fo)sHe spru+{a'Er adventu finest dramatic mann_ master ofDthe B it !onJs largelyFerfe8 as clamorousNeffusivechappier K+amstanc  &, ( air show of astonishment,AheapF compliment2 so: ntude upon)(a he al/Rforgoanearlyv l܎K!Amfor%this new2 K :kq set upa targeh  \gaze laudations <"sh<2giv s a homesher rooave him educated;Rw. Q spar2 s/"ulKtFi -\'s chancrcome. H#F32uck"2 ne's rich." Noa heavy strain2the9 tFpany kept baBe du E:2aryis pleasant jos5Dsilea=Obroke itb's gotEa. Mayb. cbut he0!lo it. Oh, you%n't smile--  1eY;&a 'tTom ran Bdoor1looked at eacha perplexbterestuinquiringly a_ Ttongue-ti* hat ails Tom?"P. "He--well - any making at boy out. I(<4Tom}/,q#Dggli{Eeigh,2 di"afinishsentenceCpourU1masyellow coQ the C^Cqwhat dih ? Half of FRmine! spectacl1 generalaway. All gazed, nwpoke forAmentn a unanimous :.n explan  #1fur5i nd he did^B tal!bumful of _,ca scarc!n rruptiony!tok the char/its flow|che had"edAJoneM)d: I,x^Jf#%isP2it BamoupC nowone makeFBsingy), I'm wilbto allhT3was[3sumt"edRG over twelv#[sand dollarsr-!as+ 7 [Qaresentever seen at one time before, "  Q N"ho1 worth consido7av,tyaV THEer may rest Aaj's windfall33$a j4tirDpoor(vof St. o. So vast a sum, in actual cash, seemed nexincrediblejqtalked , gloated0rified, until thOs' mTJdtotter&2*'e unhealthy excite "haunted" housq 2 anneighboring villzwas dissected, plank by U3oun1 duand ransafor hidden treasu Qnot b=st men--0 grave, unromantic menWmH1Tom c3were cour2adm(gz1qnot abl|arememb~2at 4bremarkLqpossessI};3now1say0 dBrepe 4didvsomehow to be regardedv8Aableyidently lo{5power of doV'2nd r common !s;5#ovir past historr!up X v2ar " of conspicuous originalityto paper published biographical sketcheNt.1 # p>"'s  at six per cent.dJudge " lt's request. Each lad had an incBnow, was simply prodigious--a9D-dayC8Ayear7?2jus  got --no, hpromised--MrcollectD Ha quarter a7 board, lodgd school a <^1ose  be daysF 2 hiwash himat matter.  ,@RopiniR 8no 3boy!goz daughtPAcavepqn Beckyd@ father, in strictCw!ceA TomAtake&a whippt6  dy2isiFv  Cplea,!ceK4thei3lie-w!olorder to shi*&at!hemo8own3saiTaq outburh$atyBa nod !ou<,5magz lie--a litaworthyzaold up-2hea-Rmarch.]breast to George WaBton's lauded TruthU"ratchet!m tOU qso tall%so superb wR walk4 fl qstamped\Bfoot?R. Shec:straight of1tol#/it"op& 1seexqlawyer  soldier some day0look to i"T#h National Military AcademRafter(Qraine!es  9[mm4 yeither care both. Finn's w0 qsthe fac#7now0_ Douglas' protec introducm)"society--no2' it, hurl# iohis suffering1mor1n hv"ar?servants him cle 1d naHQcombeC1 br hCbeddly in unsympathet3ets2ad 3e[ spot or stx~uld pres/2earQknow yK$!haE#eaba knifTfork;FUto use napkin, cupXplate&QlearnmWbook,@go to church2stalk so "lyaspeechT become insipid in hisX; whithersoXees"edC2bar ashackl civiliz;B shuiQbound1han foot. He bravely b4is miser|1ree!thTLSe day up missFor forty-e\Qhours^g! hO j2himw2in Qdistress. The cprofoundoncerned;~7u  E %eyF- @1forqbody. EThird V3Fr wiselyPp*$Qamong old empty hogsheads down*]AbandU#sl-T p'inQm he $rrefugeeL had slepor breakfastoB stolen odd61end Bfoodbwas ly<f in comfort969"ipwas unkempt, unM1cla old ruin of +,had madepicturesque%ay01frea happy[S routvBout,"his"*!he6been causing,s 3urg=Qto go gr's face its tranquilv took a melancholy cas63RDon't X CI'vey #itwT work6"T;"#"it:~U 2to :)d("ly_&7#them waysA!mex!up% / Bsameq 7+9Awashy comb mLo thunder0w&let me sleepJ/a; I go61wea m blamed cloth!atA smo?" m#'dg1seeany air git A'em,Show; !y'1 rotten ni,a=!ets, nor lMcroll a@nywher's; I hai"liD cellar-doErit 'pea b A  and swea q--I hatm!m Cy sermons!Aketc xK,[chaw.Qshoes$w eats by a bell1goeybed by fits up!--VK's so awful reg'lar)dy'itk#>#dvhat way, Huck(&qmake no differI`Qybodyq STAND &3t's1 ti so. And grub.>too easy--I# t{!esvittles,}3askAa-fi C; I in a-swimming--dern'd'8{ 31do 6t". $!I'42 to"sodn't no(#--. OuRatticip out awhileA daym1git!st"my , or I'd a died, TomnKBAmokeu y?5Bgapeqstretch Q scra before folks--" [The+a spasm ofsial irrit and injury]--"And dad fq"itaprayedNDime!A see, a woman! I HAD1ove2--I yUbesidHZ5's $Copen_<S$it%I G!st"QHAT, QLooky%,0S rich@what it's crack); Bworr  9 2a-wwas dead <2. N7%seBsuitis bar'l %shake 'emmc>B got into%isAif in't 'a' ben Kmoney; nPNQmy sh@_0Syour'gimme a ten-cDJ sometimes--not manyX#s,K_# Ra derR2'th's tollable hy4you$qbeg offSQidderv"OhK3d6%Rt. 'TBfair if you'll try^;B!a UQ longI*e $tok<Like it! Yes--bay I'd&a hot stovAI was(!itcLC. No7Brichi4liv m cussed y_Bs. I6oodv  Rf  I'll stictoo. BlamBall!Q#as>cot gun_1a c*"ll+Afixe Arob,p&olishness hasP1to k"up5pil~x1sawx opportuni%"CDhereHECUbe backnturning 'qNo! Oh, -licks; ara!qin real3-wood earnest)J+CbR'm siV-?5But<l)#qgang ifarespec5R's jo3h!!C"inq Didn't[!go~a piraterYes, bu%'sRt. A 7 zfAgh-ti7"a NQ is--rgeneral~A. InTr!ri 6  Qup inQnobilRdukes03uchw,! aS2lwme? YouhC  A youP *nVWOULD+B" "wR%,tI DON'TR--but(vpeople say? Why 'd say, 'Mph!G:'s Gang!  low characters in it!' TCU+ {h+`$t*#so , engaged%Tental"#e. Finally h# Rll go}aba monttC!nd1if  `3it,49XRme b't>+Agang." "All rightb, it'sQz! Coxo8X`2and4 G>Toh# a[oEWill/!--yg2? Tggood. If sheUt"ofroughestK"s,@qprivate-Dcussdcrowd ror bust] Astar/and turn$s? 3@D offBB"ge7B!ger$vQiniti  0Qmaybe(H(Lj;+W6t$12Bto sn9Cone [+ O#te rgang's 8+sd n're choppl o flinder qkill an 2 anV his famiWhurtsX%ay9/e3y g8,!_3E bet it is3 "at1ingAbe dbt midn[qlonesom|3est@ you can find--a ha'nted " ib:-Z23up M#yw{(socyou've3 on a coffi 1sigh with bloodOt)  RLIKE!frmillion q bullieh n 8 s QidderAR I ro 8#gi% acr of aRLbody tal('-&itD bud she sn!,wet." CONCLUSION SO endeth schronicP$G strictly a}!BOY, it kAstop ;Sstoryz!nofEmuch)p"wi becoming ^3MANone writes a!! a Sgrown*Q, he O4A exarto stopOB is,a marriagew iof juveniles, he W can. Mosgyrperform still liveare prosp2Som.it may seem ZQke upzyounger ones agaiM9 1sor"meAwomec y turned@krRit wiwRwisesyOto reveaRat pacQtheirs at present. wxlz4-2.5.2/testdata/README.txt000066400000000000000000000001351364760661600155560ustar00rootroot00000000000000The golden data files (*.lz4) have been compressed with the original C implementation of 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Now we are engaged in a great Civil War, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate - we can not consecrate - we can not hallow - this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom - and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from this earth. Abraham Lincoln, November 19, 1863, Gettysburg, Pennsylvania lz4-2.5.2/testdata/gettysburg.txt.lz4000066400000000000000000000023221364760661600175300ustar00rootroot00000000000000"Md@ Four score and seven years ago 'fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation,ceived in Liberty,e dedicated to the proposi8 that all men are cre, equal. Now weRengagb0a g) Civil War, testing whe[ cor any7 so o, can long endureWVmet o~battle-field ofsC war2have come t`a a por2@, as a final rPplace those who here g[their lives{N0 mi. 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Not present No SPD controller was found. SPD Interface: (%x:%x:%x) (%x:%x) %S No memory controller was found. Memory Controller Interface: (%x:%x:%x) (%x:%x) %S Can't initialize SPD interface. Disabling the SMBus controller. Switching to IRQ9 signaling. Enabling the SMBus controller. The SMBus controller says it's busy. Disabling SMBus interrupts. Clearing the KILL bit. Can't clear the KILL bit. HOST_STATUS didn't cleanly reset. Error while accessing EDO DIMM SPD data. EDO DIMM is too wide. EDO DIMMs shouldn't have %S banks. The dimensions of the EDO device don't make sense. The EDO device widths don't look right. Rows: %d Columns: %d Width: x%d Check Width: x%d Bank 0: Bank 1: Redundant row addressingNo redundant row addressingParityNo parityECCNo ECC %S %S %d bits wide %S Error while accessing SDRAM DIMM SPD data. SDRAM DIMM is too wide. SDRAM DIMMs shouldn't have %S banks. The dimensions of the SDRAM device don't make sense. The SDRAM device widths don't look right %lx %lx. bankbanks %d logical %s per device %S %S %d bits wide Density mask is %x Disabling SMI signaling. HOST_STATUS didn't cleanly reset, %lx. GenuineIntelAuthenticAMDCentaurHaulsCyrixInsteadGenuineTMx86RiseRiseRiselz4-2.5.2/testdata/pg1661.txt000066400000000000000000022117651364760661600155640ustar00rootroot00000000000000Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, by Arthur Conan Doyle This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Author: Arthur Conan Doyle Posting Date: April 18, 2011 [EBook #1661] First Posted: November 29, 2002 Language: English *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES *** Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE I. A Scandal in Bohemia II. The Red-headed League III. A Case of Identity IV. The Boscombe Valley Mystery V. The Five Orange Pips VI. The Man with the Twisted Lip VII. The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle VIII. The Adventure of the Speckled Band IX. The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb X. The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor XI. The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet XII. The Adventure of the Copper Beeches ADVENTURE I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA I. To Sherlock Holmes she is always THE woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer--excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory. I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion. One night--it was on the twentieth of March, 1888--I was returning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own. His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion. "Wedlock suits you," he remarked. "I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you." "Seven!" I answered. "Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness." "Then, how do you know?" "I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?" "My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much. You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out." He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together. "It is simplicity itself," said he; "my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession." I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his process of deduction. "When I hear you give your reasons," I remarked, "the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours." "Quite so," he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself down into an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room." "Frequently." "How often?" "Well, some hundreds of times." "Then how many are there?" "How many? I don't know." "Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed. By-the-way, since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this." He threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted note-paper which had been lying open upon the table. "It came by the last post," said he. "Read it aloud." The note was undated, and without either signature or address. "There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock," it said, "a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask." "This is indeed a mystery," I remarked. "What do you imagine that it means?" "I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?" I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written. "The man who wrote it was presumably well to do," I remarked, endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes. "Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff." "Peculiar--that is the very word," said Holmes. "It is not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light." I did so, and saw a large "E" with a small "g," a "P," and a large "G" with a small "t" woven into the texture of the paper. "What do you make of that?" asked Holmes. "The name of the maker, no doubt; or his monogram, rather." "Not at all. The 'G' with the small 't' stands for 'Gesellschaft,' which is the German for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for 'Papier.' Now for the 'Eg.' Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer." He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz--here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking country--in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of that?" His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette. "The paper was made in Bohemia," I said. "Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence--'This account of you we have from all quarters received.' A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts." As he spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes whistled. "A pair, by the sound," said he. "Yes," he continued, glancing out of the window. "A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case, Watson, if there is nothing else." "I think that I had better go, Holmes." "Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it." "But your client--" "Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention." A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and authoritative tap. "Come in!" said Holmes. A man entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy. "You had my note?" he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly marked German accent. "I told you that I would call." He looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address. "Pray take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?" "You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone." I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. "It is both, or none," said he. "You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me." The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. "Then I must begin," said he, "by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history." "I promise," said Holmes. "And I." "You will excuse this mask," continued our strange visitor. "The august person who employs me wishes his agent to be unknown to you, and I may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not exactly my own." "I was aware of it," said Holmes dryly. "The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one of the reigning families of Europe. To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary kings of Bohemia." "I was also aware of that," murmured Holmes, settling himself down in his armchair and closing his eyes. Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, lounging figure of the man who had been no doubt depicted to him as the most incisive reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe. Holmes slowly reopened his eyes and looked impatiently at his gigantic client. "If your Majesty would condescend to state your case," he remarked, "I should be better able to advise you." The man sprang from his chair and paced up and down the room in uncontrollable agitation. Then, with a gesture of desperation, he tore the mask from his face and hurled it upon the ground. "You are right," he cried; "I am the King. Why should I attempt to conceal it?" "Why, indeed?" murmured Holmes. "Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Cassel-Felstein, and hereditary King of Bohemia." "But you can understand," said our strange visitor, sitting down once more and passing his hand over his high white forehead, "you can understand that I am not accustomed to doing such business in my own person. Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without putting myself in his power. I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you." "Then, pray consult," said Holmes, shutting his eyes once more. "The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventuress, Irene Adler. The name is no doubt familiar to you." "Kindly look her up in my index, Doctor," murmured Holmes without opening his eyes. For many years he had adopted a system of docketing all paragraphs concerning men and things, so that it was difficult to name a subject or a person on which he could not at once furnish information. In this case I found her biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi and that of a staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea fishes. "Let me see!" said Holmes. "Hum! Born in New Jersey in the year 1858. Contralto--hum! La Scala, hum! Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw--yes! Retired from operatic stage--ha! Living in London--quite so! Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote her some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters back." "Precisely so. But how--" "Was there a secret marriage?" "None." "No legal papers or certificates?" "None." "Then I fail to follow your Majesty. If this young person should produce her letters for blackmailing or other purposes, how is she to prove their authenticity?" "There is the writing." "Pooh, pooh! Forgery." "My private note-paper." "Stolen." "My own seal." "Imitated." "My photograph." "Bought." "We were both in the photograph." "Oh, dear! That is very bad! Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion." "I was mad--insane." "You have compromised yourself seriously." "I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now." "It must be recovered." "We have tried and failed." "Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought." "She will not sell." "Stolen, then." "Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has been waylaid. There has been no result." "No sign of it?" "Absolutely none." Holmes laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem," said he. "But a very serious one to me," returned the King reproachfully. "Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?" "To ruin me." "But how?" "I am about to be married." "So I have heard." "To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end." "And Irene Adler?" "Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go--none." "You are sure that she has not sent it yet?" "I am sure." "And why?" "Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday." "Oh, then we have three days yet," said Holmes with a yawn. "That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?" "Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count Von Kramm." "Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress." "Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety." "Then, as to money?" "You have carte blanche." "Absolutely?" "I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph." "And for present expenses?" The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table. "There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes," he said. Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it to him. "And Mademoiselle's address?" he asked. "Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood." Holmes took a note of it. "One other question," said he. "Was the photograph a cabinet?" "It was." "Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some good news for you. And good-night, Watson," he added, as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you." II. At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly after eight o'clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be. I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which were associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head. It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes. "Well, really!" he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair. "What is it?" "It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning, or what I ended by doing." "I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler." "Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely from every point of view, but without noting anything else of interest. "I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in exchange twopence, a glass of half and half, two fills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to listen to." "And what of Irene Adler?" I asked. "Oh, she has turned all the men's heads down in that part. She is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of campaign. "This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the situation." "I am following you closely," I answered. "I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached--evidently the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home. "He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly, 'Drive like the devil,' he shouted, 'first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!' "Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for. "'The Church of St. Monica, John,' she cried, 'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' "This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could object. 'The Church of St. Monica,' said I, 'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind. "My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but the others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me. "'Thank God,' he cried. 'You'll do. Come! Come!' "'What then?' I asked. "'Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won't be legal.' "I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. It seems that there had been some informality about their license, that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch-chain in memory of the occasion." "This is a very unexpected turn of affairs," said I; "and what then?" "Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. 'I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,' she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements." "Which are?" "Some cold beef and a glass of beer," he answered, ringing the bell. "I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation." "I shall be delighted." "You don't mind breaking the law?" "Not in the least." "Nor running a chance of arrest?" "Not in a good cause." "Oh, the cause is excellent!" "Then I am your man." "I was sure that I might rely on you." "But what is it you wish?" "When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you. Now," he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our landlady had provided, "I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her." "And what then?" "You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come what may. You understand?" "I am to be neutral?" "To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open window." "Yes." "You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you." "Yes." "And when I raise my hand--so--you will throw into the room what I give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire. You quite follow me?" "Entirely." "It is nothing very formidable," he said, taking a long cigar-shaped roll from his pocket. "It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-rocket, fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?" "I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street." "Precisely." "Then you may entirely rely on me." "That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare for the new role I have to play." He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime. It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes' succinct description, but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with cigars in their mouths. "You see," remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the house, "this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is, Where are we to find the photograph?" "Where, indeed?" "It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman's dress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her." "Where, then?" "Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house." "But it has twice been burgled." "Pshaw! They did not know how to look." "But how will you look?" "I will not look." "What then?" "I will get her to show me." "But she will refuse." "She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter." As he spoke the gleam of the side-lights of a carriage came round the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but just as he reached her he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number of better-dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall, looking back into the street. "Is the poor gentleman much hurt?" she asked. "He is dead," cried several voices. "No, no, there's life in him!" shouted another. "But he'll be gone before you can get him to hospital." "He's a brave fellow," said a woman. "They would have had the lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a gang, and a rough one, too. Ah, he's breathing now." "He can't lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?" "Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please!" Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring another. Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!" The word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and ill--gentlemen, ostlers, and servant-maids--joined in a general shriek of "Fire!" Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road. "You did it very nicely, Doctor," he remarked. "Nothing could have been better. It is all right." "You have the photograph?" "I know where it is." "And how did you find out?" "She showed me, as I told you she would." "I am still in the dark." "I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The matter was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening." "I guessed as much." "Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick." "That also I could fathom." "Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your chance." "How did that help you?" "It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half-drew it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly it seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all." "And now?" I asked. "Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands." "And when will you call?" "At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay." We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said: "Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes." There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by. "I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been." III. I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the room. "You have really got it!" he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face. "Not yet." "But you have hopes?" "I have hopes." "Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone." "We must have a cab." "No, my brougham is waiting." "Then that will simplify matters." We descended and started off once more for Briony Lodge. "Irene Adler is married," remarked Holmes. "Married! When?" "Yesterday." "But to whom?" "To an English lawyer named Norton." "But she could not love him." "I am in hopes that she does." "And why in hopes?" "Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with your Majesty's plan." "It is true. And yet--Well! I wish she had been of my own station! What a queen she would have made!" He relapsed into a moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue. The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the brougham. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?" said she. "I am Mr. Holmes," answered my companion, looking at her with a questioning and rather startled gaze. "Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for the Continent." "What!" Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. "Do you mean that she has left England?" "Never to return." "And the papers?" asked the King hoarsely. "All is lost." "We shall see." He pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to "Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for." My friend tore it open and we all three read it together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way: "MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,--You really did it very well. You took me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had been told that if the King employed an agent it would certainly be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you, ran up stairs, got into my walking-clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you departed. "Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for the Temple to see my husband. "We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes, "Very truly yours, "IRENE NORTON, née ADLER." "What a woman--oh, what a woman!" cried the King of Bohemia, when we had all three read this epistle. "Did I not tell you how quick and resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?" "From what I have seen of the lady she seems indeed to be on a very different level to your Majesty," said Holmes coldly. "I am sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty's business to a more successful conclusion." "On the contrary, my dear sir," cried the King; "nothing could be more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire." "I am glad to hear your Majesty say so." "I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward you. This ring--" He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand. "Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly," said Holmes. "You have but to name it." "This photograph!" The King stared at him in amazement. "Irene's photograph!" he cried. "Certainly, if you wish it." "I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter. I have the honour to wish you a very good-morning." He bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand which the King had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers. And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a woman's wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honourable title of the woman. ADVENTURE II. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the autumn of last year and found him in deep conversation with a very stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me. "You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson," he said cordially. "I was afraid that you were engaged." "So I am. Very much so." "Then I can wait in the next room." "Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and helper in many of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also." The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small fat-encircled eyes. "Try the settee," said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and putting his fingertips together, as was his custom when in judicial moods. "I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life. You have shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many of my own little adventures." "Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me," I observed. "You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that for strange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go to life itself, which is always far more daring than any effort of the imagination." "A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting." "You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to my view, for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you until your reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to be right. Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this morning, and to begin a narrative which promises to be one of the most singular which I have listened to for some time. You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique things are very often connected not with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where there is room for doubt whether any positive crime has been committed. As far as I have heard it is impossible for me to say whether the present case is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events is certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would have the great kindness to recommence your narrative. I ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part but also because the peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have every possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of my belief, unique." The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, with his head thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his knee, I took a good look at the man and endeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, to read the indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance. I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey shepherd's check trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the man save his blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin and discontent upon his features. Sherlock Holmes' quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook his head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. "Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else." Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger upon the paper, but his eyes upon my companion. "How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?" he asked. "How did you know, for example, that I did manual labour. It's as true as gospel, for I began as a ship's carpenter." "Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger than your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed." "Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?" "I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you use an arc-and-compass breastpin." "Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?" "What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for five inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where you rest it upon the desk?" "Well, but China?" "The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist could only have been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject. That trick of staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter becomes even more simple." Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he. "I thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was nothing in it, after all." "I begin to think, Watson," said Holmes, "that I make a mistake in explaining. 'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,' you know, and my poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?" "Yes, I have got it now," he answered with his thick red finger planted halfway down the column. "Here it is. This is what began it all. You just read it for yourself, sir." I took the paper from him and read as follows: "TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of 4 pounds a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street." "What on earth does this mean?" I ejaculated after I had twice read over the extraordinary announcement. Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in high spirits. "It is a little off the beaten track, isn't it?" said he. "And now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us all about yourself, your household, and the effect which this advertisement had upon your fortunes. You will first make a note, Doctor, of the paper and the date." "It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two months ago." "Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?" "Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; "I have a small pawnbroker's business at Coburg Square, near the City. It's not a very large affair, and of late years it has not done more than just give me a living. I used to be able to keep two assistants, but now I only keep one; and I would have a job to pay him but that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn the business." "What is the name of this obliging youth?" asked Sherlock Holmes. "His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he's not such a youth, either. It's hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well that he could better himself and earn twice what I am able to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, why should I put ideas in his head?" "Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employé who comes under the full market price. It is not a common experience among employers in this age. I don't know that your assistant is not as remarkable as your advertisement." "Oh, he has his faults, too," said Mr. Wilson. "Never was such a fellow for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought to be improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar like a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures. That is his main fault, but on the whole he's a good worker. There's no vice in him." "He is still with you, I presume?" "Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking and keeps the place clean--that's all I have in the house, for I am a widower and never had any family. We live very quietly, sir, the three of us; and we keep a roof over our heads and pay our debts, if we do nothing more. "The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he says: "'I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.' "'Why that?' I asks. "'Why,' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of the Red-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men, so that the trustees are at their wits' end what to do with the money. If my hair would only change colour, here's a nice little crib all ready for me to step into.' "'Why, what is it, then?' I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a very stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of my having to go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over the door-mat. In that way I didn't know much of what was going on outside, and I was always glad of a bit of news. "'Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?' he asked with his eyes open. "'Never.' "'Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one of the vacancies.' "'And what are they worth?' I asked. "'Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, and it need not interfere very much with one's other occupations.' "Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for the business has not been over-good for some years, and an extra couple of hundred would have been very handy. "'Tell me all about it,' said I. "'Well,' said he, showing me the advertisement, 'you can see for yourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the address where you should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out, the League was founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins, who was very peculiar in his ways. He was himself red-headed, and he had a great sympathy for all red-headed men; so when he died it was found that he had left his enormous fortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions to apply the interest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is of that colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little to do.' "'But,' said I, 'there would be millions of red-headed men who would apply.' "'Not so many as you might think,' he answered. 'You see it is really confined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had started from London when he was young, and he wanted to do the old town a good turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use your applying if your hair is light red, or dark red, or anything but real bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk in; but perhaps it would hardly be worth your while to put yourself out of the way for the sake of a few hundred pounds.' "Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, that my hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed to me that if there was to be any competition in the matter I stood as good a chance as any man that I had ever met. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he might prove useful, so I just ordered him to put up the shutters for the day and to come right away with me. He was very willing to have a holiday, so we shut the business up and started off for the address that was given us in the advertisement. "I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. From north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked like a coster's orange barrow. I should not have thought there were so many in the whole country as were brought together by that single advertisement. Every shade of colour they were--straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay; but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how many were waiting, I would have given it up in despair; but Spaulding would not hear of it. How he did it I could not imagine, but he pushed and pulled and butted until he got me through the crowd, and right up to the steps which led to the office. There was a double stream upon the stair, some going up in hope, and some coming back dejected; but we wedged in as well as we could and soon found ourselves in the office." "Your experience has been a most entertaining one," remarked Holmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge pinch of snuff. "Pray continue your very interesting statement." "There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a deal table, behind which sat a small man with a head that was even redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidate as he came up, and then he always managed to find some fault in them which would disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem to be such a very easy matter, after all. However, when our turn came the little man was much more favourable to me than to any of the others, and he closed the door as we entered, so that he might have a private word with us. "'This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,' said my assistant, 'and he is willing to fill a vacancy in the League.' "'And he is admirably suited for it,' the other answered. 'He has every requirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine.' He took a step backward, cocked his head on one side, and gazed at my hair until I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly he plunged forward, wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly on my success. "'It would be injustice to hesitate,' said he. 'You will, however, I am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.' With that he seized my hair in both his hands, and tugged until I yelled with the pain. 'There is water in your eyes,' said he as he released me. 'I perceive that all is as it should be. But we have to be careful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs and once by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax which would disgust you with human nature.' He stepped over to the window and shouted through it at the top of his voice that the vacancy was filled. A groan of disappointment came up from below, and the folk all trooped away in different directions until there was not a red-head to be seen except my own and that of the manager. "'My name,' said he, 'is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of the pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are you a married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?' "I answered that I had not. "His face fell immediately. "'Dear me!' he said gravely, 'that is very serious indeed! I am sorry to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.' "My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was not to have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for a few minutes he said that it would be all right. "'In the case of another,' said he, 'the objection might be fatal, but we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such a head of hair as yours. When shall you be able to enter upon your new duties?' "'Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,' said I. "'Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding. 'I should be able to look after that for you.' "'What would be the hours?' I asked. "'Ten to two.' "Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an evening, Mr. Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday evening, which is just before pay-day; so it would suit me very well to earn a little in the mornings. Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good man, and that he would see to anything that turned up. "'That would suit me very well,' said I. 'And the pay?' "'Is 4 pounds a week.' "'And the work?' "'Is purely nominal.' "'What do you call purely nominal?' "'Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever. The will is very clear upon that point. You don't comply with the conditions if you budge from the office during that time.' "'It's only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,' said I. "'No excuse will avail,' said Mr. Duncan Ross; 'neither sickness nor business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose your billet.' "'And the work?' "'Is to copy out the "Encyclopaedia Britannica." There is the first volume of it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, and blotting-paper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you be ready to-morrow?' "'Certainly,' I answered. "'Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you once more on the important position which you have been fortunate enough to gain.' He bowed me out of the room and I went home with my assistant, hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased at my own good fortune. "Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such a will, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the 'Encyclopaedia Britannica.' Vincent Spaulding did what he could to cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the whole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look at it anyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a quill-pen, and seven sheets of foolscap paper, I started off for Pope's Court. "Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as possible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross was there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off upon the letter A, and then he left me; but he would drop in from time to time to see that all was right with me. At two o'clock he bade me good-day, complimented me upon the amount that I had written, and locked the door of the office after me. "This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the manager came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my week's work. It was the same next week, and the same the week after. Every morning I was there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took to coming in only once of a morning, and then, after a time, he did not come in at all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for an instant, for I was not sure when he might come, and the billet was such a good one, and suited me so well, that I would not risk the loss of it. "Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about Abbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and hoped with diligence that I might get on to the B's before very long. It cost me something in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with my writings. And then suddenly the whole business came to an end." "To an end?" "Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as usual at ten o'clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a little square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the panel with a tack. Here it is, and you can read for yourself." He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet of note-paper. It read in this fashion: THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE IS DISSOLVED. October 9, 1890. Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the rueful face behind it, until the comical side of the affair so completely overtopped every other consideration that we both burst out into a roar of laughter. "I cannot see that there is anything very funny," cried our client, flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. "If you can do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere." "No, no," cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from which he had half risen. "I really wouldn't miss your case for the world. It is most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you will excuse my saying so, something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon the door?" "I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at the offices round, but none of them seemed to know anything about it. Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant living on the ground-floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of the Red-headed League. He said that he had never heard of any such body. Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the name was new to him. "'Well,' said I, 'the gentleman at No. 4.' "'What, the red-headed man?' "'Yes.' "'Oh,' said he, 'his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor and was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new premises were ready. He moved out yesterday.' "'Where could I find him?' "'Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 King Edward Street, near St. Paul's.' "I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was a manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross." "And what did you do then?" asked Holmes. "I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only say that if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not quite good enough, Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place without a struggle, so, as I had heard that you were good enough to give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, I came right away to you." "And you did very wisely," said Holmes. "Your case is an exceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. From what you have told me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang from it than might at first sight appear." "Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson. "Why, I have lost four pound a week." "As far as you are personally concerned," remarked Holmes, "I do not see that you have any grievance against this extraordinary league. On the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some 30 pounds, to say nothing of the minute knowledge which you have gained on every subject which comes under the letter A. You have lost nothing by them." "No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and what their object was in playing this prank--if it was a prank--upon me. It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them two and thirty pounds." "We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first, one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first called your attention to the advertisement--how long had he been with you?" "About a month then." "How did he come?" "In answer to an advertisement." "Was he the only applicant?" "No, I had a dozen." "Why did you pick him?" "Because he was handy and would come cheap." "At half-wages, in fact." "Yes." "What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?" "Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face, though he's not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon his forehead." Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. "I thought as much," said he. "Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced for earrings?" "Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he was a lad." "Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. "He is still with you?" "Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him." "And has your business been attended to in your absence?" "Nothing to complain of, sir. There's never very much to do of a morning." "That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an opinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is Saturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion." "Well, Watson," said Holmes when our visitor had left us, "what do you make of it all?" "I make nothing of it," I answered frankly. "It is a most mysterious business." "As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the less mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this matter." "What are you going to do, then?" I asked. "To smoke," he answered. "It is quite a three pipe problem, and I beg that you won't speak to me for fifty minutes." He curled himself up in his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to his hawk-like nose, and there he sat with his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird. I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep, and indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of his chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and put his pipe down upon the mantelpiece. "Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this afternoon," he remarked. "What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare you for a few hours?" "I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very absorbing." "Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City first, and we can have some lunch on the way. I observe that there is a good deal of German music on the programme, which is rather more to my taste than Italian or French. It is introspective, and I want to introspect. Come along!" We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky, little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-in enclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded laurel-bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with "JABEZ WILSON" in white letters, upon a corner house, announced the place where our red-headed client carried on his business. Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally he returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having thumped vigorously upon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went up to the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by a bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step in. "Thank you," said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you how you would go from here to the Strand." "Third right, fourth left," answered the assistant promptly, closing the door. "Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes as we walked away. "He is, in my judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known something of him before." "Evidently," said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a good deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you inquired your way merely in order that you might see him." "Not him." "What then?" "The knees of his trousers." "And what did you see?" "What I expected to see." "Why did you beat the pavement?" "My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We are spies in an enemy's country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square. Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it." The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back. It was one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City to the north and west. The roadway was blocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward, while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm of pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we looked at the line of fine shops and stately business premises that they really abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square which we had just quitted. "Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing along the line, "I should like just to remember the order of the houses here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London. There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane's carriage-building depot. That carries us right on to the other block. And now, Doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had some play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums." My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a very capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to the music, while his gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it was possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual nature alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness and astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him from extreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he was never so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his black-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning power would rise to the level of intuition, until those who were unacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. James's Hall I felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set himself to hunt down. "You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor," he remarked as we emerged. "Yes, it would be as well." "And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This business at Coburg Square is serious." "Why serious?" "A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being Saturday rather complicates matters. I shall want your help to-night." "At what time?" "Ten will be early enough." "I shall be at Baker Street at ten." "Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger, so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket." He waved his hand, turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd. I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to happen, while to me the whole business was still confused and grotesque. As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought over it all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headed copier of the "Encyclopaedia" down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg Square, and the ominous words with which he had parted from me. What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker's assistant was a formidable man--a man who might play a deep game. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside until night should bring an explanation. It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way across the Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker Street. Two hansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered the passage I heard the sound of voices from above. On entering his room I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men, one of whom I recognised as Peter Jones, the official police agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat. "Ha! Our party is complete," said Holmes, buttoning up his pea-jacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. "Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who is to be our companion in to-night's adventure." "We're hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see," said Jones in his consequential way. "Our friend here is a wonderful man for starting a chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do the running down." "I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase," observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily. "You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir," said the police agent loftily. "He has his own little methods, which are, if he won't mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic, but he has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to say that once or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has been more nearly correct than the official force." "Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right," said the stranger with deference. "Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my rubber." "I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes, "that you will play for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and that the play will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be some 30,000 pounds; and for you, Jones, it will be the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands." "John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He's a young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London. He's a remarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where to find the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next. I've been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him yet." "I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. I've had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I agree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however, and quite time that we started. If you two will take the first hansom, Watson and I will follow in the second." Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in the afternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streets until we emerged into Farrington Street. "We are close there now," my friend remarked. "This fellow Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the matter. I thought it as well to have Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession. He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone. Here we are, and they are waiting for us." We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had found ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage and through a side door, which he opened for us. Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, and led down a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all round with crates and massive boxes. "You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarked as he held up the lantern and gazed about him. "Nor from below," said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon the flags which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise. "I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmes severely. "You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?" The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a very injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his knees upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again and put his glass in his pocket. "We have at least an hour before us," he remarked, "for they can hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at present, Doctor--as no doubt you have divined--in the cellar of the City branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he will explain to you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of London should take a considerable interest in this cellar at present." "It is our French gold," whispered the director. "We have had several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it." "Your French gold?" "Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France. It has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack the money, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in a single branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the subject." "Which were very well justified," observed Holmes. "And now it is time that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr. Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern." "And sit in the dark?" "I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I thought that, as we were a partie carrée, you might have your rubber after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must choose our positions. These are daring men, and though we shall take them at a disadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are careful. I shall stand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down." I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness--such an absolute darkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault. "They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes. "That is back through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what I asked you, Jones?" "I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door." "Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent and wait." What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must have almost gone and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle breathing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing note of the bank director. From my position I could look over the case in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of a light. At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then it lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without any warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area of light. For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor. Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was dark again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink between the stones. Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending, tearing sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon its side and left a square, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then, with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. In another instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after him a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale face and a shock of very red hair. "It's all clear," he whispered. "Have you the chisel and the bags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for it!" Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar. The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes' hunting crop came down on the man's wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone floor. "It's no use, John Clay," said Holmes blandly. "You have no chance at all." "So I see," the other answered with the utmost coolness. "I fancy that my pal is all right, though I see you have got his coat-tails." "There are three men waiting for him at the door," said Holmes. "Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I must compliment you." "And I you," Holmes answered. "Your red-headed idea was very new and effective." "You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones. "He's quicker at climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the derbies." "I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands," remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. "You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness, also, when you address me always to say 'sir' and 'please.'" "All right," said Jones with a stare and a snigger. "Well, would you please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry your Highness to the police-station?" "That is better," said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow to the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the detective. "Really, Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them from the cellar, "I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most complete manner one of the most determined attempts at bank robbery that have ever come within my experience." "I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. John Clay," said Holmes. "I have been at some small expense over this matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in many ways unique, and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League." "You see, Watson," he explained in the early hours of the morning as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, "it was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of the League, and the copying of the 'Encyclopaedia,' must be to get this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number of hours every day. It was a curious way of managing it, but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was no doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colour of his accomplice's hair. The 4 pounds a week was a lure which must draw him, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands? They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporary office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, and together they manage to secure his absence every morning in the week. From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive for securing the situation." "But how could you guess what the motive was?" "Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man's business was a small one, and there was nothing in his house which could account for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant's fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London. He was doing something in the cellar--something which took many hours a day for months on end. What could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel to some other building. "So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other before. I hardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. You must yourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke of those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what they were burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on our friend's premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. When you drove home after the concert I called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank directors, with the result that you have seen." "And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?" I asked. "Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that they cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson's presence--in other words, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they should use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the bullion might be removed. Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it would give them two days for their escape. For all these reasons I expected them to come to-night." "You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration. "It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true." "It saved me from ennui," he answered, yawning. "Alas! I already feel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so." "And you are a benefactor of the race," said I. He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, perhaps, after all, it is of some little use," he remarked. "'L'homme c'est rien--l'oeuvre c'est tout,' as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand." ADVENTURE III. A CASE OF IDENTITY "My dear fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and leading to the most outré results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable." "And yet I am not convinced of it," I answered. "The cases which come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and vulgar enough. We have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic." "A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a realistic effect," remarked Holmes. "This is wanting in the police report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon the platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to an observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter. Depend upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace." I smiled and shook my head. "I can quite understand your thinking so," I said. "Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, you are brought in contact with all that is strange and bizarre. But here"--I picked up the morning paper from the ground--"let us put it to a practical test. Here is the first heading upon which I come. 'A husband's cruelty to his wife.' There is half a column of print, but I know without reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude." "Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument," said Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. "This is the Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged in clearing up some small points in connection with it. The husband was a teetotaler, there was no other woman, and the conduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit of winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurling them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an action likely to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller. Take a pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over you in your example." He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon it. "Ah," said he, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers." "And the ring?" I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which sparkled upon his finger. "It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even to you, who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of my little problems." "And have you any on hand just now?" I asked with interest. "Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of interest. They are important, you understand, without being interesting. Indeed, I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, as a rule, is the motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents any features of interest. It is possible, however, that I may have something better before very many minutes are over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken." He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted blinds gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a large woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck, and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her ear. From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous, hesitating fashion at our windows, while her body oscillated backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glove buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves the bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard the sharp clang of the bell. "I have seen those symptoms before," said Holmes, throwing his cigarette into the fire. "Oscillation upon the pavement always means an affaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is not sure that the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet even here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man she no longer oscillates, and the usual symptom is a broken bell wire. Here we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, or grieved. But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts." As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed merchant-man behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable, and, having closed the door and bowed her into an armchair, he looked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was peculiar to him. "Do you not find," he said, "that with your short sight it is a little trying to do so much typewriting?" "I did at first," she answered, "but now I know where the letters are without looking." Then, suddenly realising the full purport of his words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear and astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. "You've heard about me, Mr. Holmes," she cried, "else how could you know all that?" "Never mind," said Holmes, laughing; "it is my business to know things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook. If not, why should you come to consult me?" "I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had given him up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as much for me. I'm not rich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides the little that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel." "Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?" asked Sherlock Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes to the ceiling. Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss Mary Sutherland. "Yes, I did bang out of the house," she said, "for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. Windibank--that is, my father--took it all. He would not go to the police, and he would not go to you, and so at last, as he would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done, it made me mad, and I just on with my things and came right away to you." "Your father," said Holmes, "your stepfather, surely, since the name is different." "Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, too, for he is only five years and two months older than myself." "And your mother is alive?" "Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn't best pleased, Mr. Holmes, when she married again so soon after father's death, and a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy business behind him, which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell the business, for he was very superior, being a traveller in wines. They got 4700 pounds for the goodwill and interest, which wasn't near as much as father could have got if he had been alive." I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this rambling and inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he had listened with the greatest concentration of attention. "Your own little income," he asked, "does it come out of the business?" "Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle Ned in Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4 1/2 per cent. Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch the interest." "You interest me extremely," said Holmes. "And since you draw so large a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the bargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way. I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about 60 pounds." "I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you understand that as long as I live at home I don't wish to be a burden to them, and so they have the use of the money just while I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for the time. Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it over to mother, and I find that I can do pretty well with what I earn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and I can often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day." "You have made your position very clear to me," said Holmes. "This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about your connection with Mr. Hosmer Angel." A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face, and she picked nervously at the fringe of her jacket. "I met him first at the gasfitters' ball," she said. "They used to send father tickets when he was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us, and sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish us to go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I was set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all father's friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so much as taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do, he went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we went, mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our foreman, and it was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel." "I suppose," said Holmes, "that when Mr. Windibank came back from France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball." "Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying anything to a woman, for she would have her way." "I see. Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, a gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel." "Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if we had got home all safe, and after that we met him--that is to say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that father came back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house any more." "No?" "Well, you know father didn't like anything of the sort. He wouldn't have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say to mother, a woman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not got mine yet." "But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see you?" "Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each other until he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he used to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no need for father to know." "Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?" "Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we took. Hosmer--Mr. Angel--was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street--and--" "What office?" "That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don't know." "Where did he live, then?" "He slept on the premises." "And you don't know his address?" "No--except that it was Leadenhall Street." "Where did you address your letters, then?" "To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for. He said that if they were sent to the office he would be chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady, so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn't have that, for he said that when I wrote them they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten he always felt that the machine had come between us. That will just show you how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would think of." "It was most suggestive," said Holmes. "It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?" "He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to be conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was gentle. He'd had the quinsy and swollen glands when he was young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. He was always well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare." "Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, returned to France?" "Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest and made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would always be true to him. Mother said he was quite right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. Mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about father; but they both said never to mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with him. I didn't quite like that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, as he was only a few years older than me; but I didn't want to do anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the company has its French offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the wedding." "It missed him, then?" "Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived." "Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the Friday. Was it to be in church?" "Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, near King's Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a four-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in the street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one there! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since then to throw any light upon what became of him." "It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated," said Holmes. "Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it." "Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?" "Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened." "But you have no notion as to what it could have been?" "None." "One more question. How did your mother take the matter?" "She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again." "And your father? Did you tell him?" "Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him, there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night." She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob heavily into it. "I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life." "Then you don't think I'll see him again?" "I fear not." "Then what has happened to him?" "You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can spare." "I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle," said she. "Here is the slip and here are four letters from him." "Thank you. And your address?" "No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell." "Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is your father's place of business?" "He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of Fenchurch Street." "Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your life." "You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back." For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever she might be summoned. Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look of infinite languor in his face. "Quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "I found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in Andover in '77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me. But the maiden herself was most instructive." "You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible to me," I remarked. "Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. Now, what did you gather from that woman's appearance? Describe it." "Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her dress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were greyish and were worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots I didn't observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way." Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled. "'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and you have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to general impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. My first glance is always at a woman's sleeve. In a man it is perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As you observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most useful material for showing traces. The double line a little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and, observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed to surprise her." "It surprised me." "But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry." "And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by my friend's incisive reasoning. "I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving home but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. She had written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. It must have been this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger. All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?" I held the little printed slip to the light. "Missing," it said, "on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman named Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in the centre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted glasses, slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street. Anybody bringing--" "That will do," said Holmes. "As to the letters," he continued, glancing over them, "they are very commonplace. Absolutely no clue in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike you." "They are typewritten," I remarked. "Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the neat little 'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive--in fact, we may call it conclusive." "Of what?" "My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears upon the case?" "I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted." "No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the other is to the young lady's stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking him whether he could meet us here at six o'clock tomorrow evening. It is just as well that we should do business with the male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our little problem upon the shelf for the interim." I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that he must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy demeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he had been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known him to fail, in the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler photograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of the Sign of Four, and the extraordinary circumstances connected with the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it would be a strange tangle indeed which he could not unravel. I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would find that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up to the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary Sutherland. A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six o'clock that I found myself free and was able to spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too late to assist at the dénouement of the little mystery. I found Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin form curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him. "Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered. "Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta." "No, no, the mystery!" I cried. "Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some of the details are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel." "Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss Sutherland?" The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet opened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage and a tap at the door. "This is the girl's stepfather, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "He has written to me to say that he would be here at six. Come in!" The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating grey eyes. He shot a questioning glance at each of us, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair. "Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "I think that this typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an appointment with me for six o'clock?" "Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has troubled you about this little matter, for I think it is far better not to wash linen of the sort in public. It was quite against my wishes that she came, but she is a very excitable, impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is not easily controlled when she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, I did not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the official police, but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like this noised abroad. Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel?" "On the contrary," said Holmes quietly; "I have every reason to believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel." Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. "I am delighted to hear it," he said. "It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes, "that a typewriter has really quite as much individuality as a man's handwriting. Unless they are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike. Some letters get more worn than others, and some wear only on one side. Now, you remark in this note of yours, Mr. Windibank, that in every case there is some little slurring over of the 'e,' and a slight defect in the tail of the 'r.' There are fourteen other characteristics, but those are the more obvious." "We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and no doubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered, glancing keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes. "And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, Mr. Windibank," Holmes continued. "I think of writing another little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted some little attention. I have here four letters which purport to come from the missing man. They are all typewritten. In each case, not only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless, but you will observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteen other characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well." Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. "I cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes," he said. "If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done it." "Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in the door. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!" "What! where?" shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips and glancing about him like a rat in a trap. "Oh, it won't do--really it won't," said Holmes suavely. "There is no possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that it was impossible for me to solve so simple a question. That's right! Sit down and let us talk it over." Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a glitter of moisture on his brow. "It--it's not actionable," he stammered. "I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong." The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us. "The man married a woman very much older than himself for her money," said he, "and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter as long as she lived with them. It was a considerable sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would have made a serious difference. It was worth an effort to preserve it. The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident that with her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she would not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company of people of her own age. But soon he found that that would not answer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives an idea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With the connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself, covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face with a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of the girl's short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps off other lovers by making love himself." "It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor. "We never thought that she would have been so carried away." "Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never for an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by the gentleman's attentions, and the effect was increased by the loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel began to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. There were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the girl's affections from turning towards anyone else. But the deception could not be kept up forever. These pretended journeys to France were rather cumbrous. The thing to do was clearly to bring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner that it would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady's mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time to come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, and hence also the allusions to a possibility of something happening on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished Miss Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to his fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not listen to another man. As far as the church door he brought her, and then, as he could go no farther, he conveniently vanished away by the old trick of stepping in at one door of a four-wheeler and out at the other. I think that was the chain of events, Mr. Windibank!" Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes had been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold sneer upon his pale face. "It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes," said he, "but if you are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is you who are breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing actionable from the first, but as long as you keep that door locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegal constraint." "The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes, unlocking and throwing open the door, "yet there never was a man who deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!" he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treat myself to--" He took two swift steps to the whip, but before he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr. James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road. "There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing, as he threw himself down into his chair once more. "That fellow will rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad, and ends on a gallows. The case has, in some respects, been not entirely devoid of interest." "I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," I remarked. "Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curious conduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who really profited by the incident, as far as we could see, was the stepfather. Then the fact that the two men were never together, but that the one always appeared when the other was away, was suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice, which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in typewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that his handwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognise even the smallest sample of it. You see all these isolated facts, together with many minor ones, all pointed in the same direction." "And how did you verify them?" "Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I knew the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed description. I eliminated everything from it which could be the result of a disguise--the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I sent it to the firm, with a request that they would inform me whether it answered to the description of any of their travellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of the typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at his business address asking him if he would come here. As I expected, his reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but characteristic defects. The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the description tallied in every respect with that of their employé, James Windibank. Voilà tout!" "And Miss Sutherland?" "If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.' There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world." ADVENTURE IV. THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way: "Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by the 11:15." "What do you say, dear?" said my wife, looking across at me. "Will you go?" "I really don't know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present." "Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes' cases." "I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through one of them," I answered. "But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I have only half an hour." My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long grey travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap. "It is really very good of you to come, Watson," said he. "It makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets." We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack. "Have you heard anything of the case?" he asked. "Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days." "The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so extremely difficult." "That sounds a little paradoxical." "But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very serious case against the son of the murdered man." "It is a murder, then?" "Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very few words. "Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down they should do so as near each other as possible. Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants--a man and a girl. Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the families. Now for the facts. "On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of importance to keep at three. From that appointment he never came back alive. "From Hatherley Farm-house to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was an old woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was William Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred. "The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there she saw, at the border of the wood and close by the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son's gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the body. Under these circumstances the young man was instantly arrested, and a verdict of 'wilful murder' having been returned at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the police-court." "I could hardly imagine a more damning case," I remarked. "If ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here." "Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing," answered Holmes thoughtfully. "It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something entirely different. It must be confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is very possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, and among them Miss Turner, the daughter of the neighbouring landowner, who believe in his innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly digesting their breakfasts at home." "I am afraid," said I, "that the facts are so obvious that you will find little credit to be gained out of this case." "There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," he answered, laughing. "Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted even so self-evident a thing as that." "How on earth--" "My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness which characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this season you shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated than the other. I could not imagine a man of your habits looking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a result. I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and inference. Therein lies my métier, and it is just possible that it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out in the inquest, and which are worth considering." "What are they?" "It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after the return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not surprised to hear it, and that it was no more than his deserts. This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's jury." "It was a confession," I ejaculated. "No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence." "Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at least a most suspicious remark." "On the contrary," said Holmes, "it is the brightest rift which I can at present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were very black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I should have looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father, and that there is no doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a guilty one." I shook my head. "Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence," I remarked. "So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged." "What is the young man's own account of the matter?" "It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. You will find it here, and may read it for yourself." He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper, and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this way: "Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and gave evidence as follows: 'I had been away from home for three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday, the 3rd. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and, looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had no idea that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of "Cooee!" which was a usual signal between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and found him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground, with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner's lodge-keeper, his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far as I know, no active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.' "The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before he died? "Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion to a rat. "The Coroner: What did you understand by that? "Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was delirious. "The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father had this final quarrel? "Witness: I should prefer not to answer. "The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it. "Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed. "The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case considerably in any future proceedings which may arise. "Witness: I must still refuse. "The Coroner: I understand that the cry of 'Cooee' was a common signal between you and your father? "Witness: It was. "The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw you, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol? "Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know. "A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured? "Witness: Nothing definite. "The Coroner: What do you mean? "Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from my father I looked round for it, but it was gone. "'Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?' "'Yes, it was gone.' "'You cannot say what it was?' "'No, I had a feeling something was there.' "'How far from the body?' "'A dozen yards or so.' "'And how far from the edge of the wood?' "'About the same.' "'Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards of it?' "'Yes, but with my back towards it.' "This concluded the examination of the witness." "I see," said I as I glanced down the column, "that the coroner in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his father having signalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give details of his conversation with his father, and his singular account of his father's dying words. They are all, as he remarks, very much against the son." Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon the cushioned seat. "Both you and the coroner have been at some pains," said he, "to single out the very strongest points in the young man's favour. Don't you see that you alternately give him credit for having too much imagination and too little? Too little, if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from his own inner consciousness anything so outré as a dying reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in twenty minutes." It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after passing through the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a room had already been engaged for us. "I have ordered a carriage," said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea. "I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy until you had been on the scene of the crime." "It was very nice and complimentary of you," Holmes answered. "It is entirely a question of barometric pressure." Lestrade looked startled. "I do not quite follow," he said. "How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in the sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the sofa is very much superior to the usual country hotel abomination. I do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night." Lestrade laughed indulgently. "You have, no doubt, already formed your conclusions from the newspapers," he said. "The case is as plain as a pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes. Still, of course, one can't refuse a lady, and such a very positive one, too. She has heard of you, and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done. Why, bless my soul! here is her carriage at the door." He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the most lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her violet eyes shining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her cheeks, all thought of her natural reserve lost in her overpowering excitement and concern. "Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" she cried, glancing from one to the other of us, and finally, with a woman's quick intuition, fastening upon my companion, "I am so glad that you have come. I have driven down to tell you so. I know that James didn't do it. I know it, and I want you to start upon your work knowing it, too. Never let yourself doubt upon that point. We have known each other since we were little children, and I know his faults as no one else does; but he is too tender-hearted to hurt a fly. Such a charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him." "I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner," said Sherlock Holmes. "You may rely upon my doing all that I can." "But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion? Do you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself think that he is innocent?" "I think that it is very probable." "There, now!" she cried, throwing back her head and looking defiantly at Lestrade. "You hear! He gives me hopes." Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am afraid that my colleague has been a little quick in forming his conclusions," he said. "But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did it. And about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the reason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in it." "In what way?" asked Holmes. "It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had many disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that there should be a marriage between us. James and I have always loved each other as brother and sister; but of course he is young and has seen very little of life yet, and--and--well, he naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet. So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them." "And your father?" asked Holmes. "Was he in favour of such a union?" "No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favour of it." A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as Holmes shot one of his keen, questioning glances at her. "Thank you for this information," said he. "May I see your father if I call to-morrow?" "I am afraid the doctor won't allow it." "The doctor?" "Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for years back, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken to his bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his nervous system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive who had known dad in the old days in Victoria." "Ha! In Victoria! That is important." "Yes, at the mines." "Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner made his money." "Yes, certainly." "Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to me." "You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you will go to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him that I know him to be innocent." "I will, Miss Turner." "I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if I leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking." She hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we heard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street. "I am ashamed of you, Holmes," said Lestrade with dignity after a few minutes' silence. "Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound to disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel." "I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy," said Holmes. "Have you an order to see him in prison?" "Yes, but only for you and me." "Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have still time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?" "Ample." "Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but I shall only be away a couple of hours." I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel. The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the deep mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention wander so continually from the action to the fact, that I at last flung it across the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy young man's story were absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between the time when he parted from his father, and the moment when, drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was something terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts? I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper, which contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon's deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spot upon my own head. Clearly such a blow must have been struck from behind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as when seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still, it did not go for very much, for the older man might have turned his back before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to call Holmes' attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying reference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be delirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become delirious. No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how he met his fate. But what could it indicate? I cudgelled my brains to find some possible explanation. And then the incident of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy. If that were true the murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumably his overcoat, in his flight, and must have had the hardihood to return and to carry it away at the instant when the son was kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What a tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! I did not wonder at Lestrade's opinion, and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock Holmes' insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of young McCarthy's innocence. It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town. "The glass still keeps very high," he remarked as he sat down. "It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over the ground. On the other hand, a man should be at his very best and keenest for such nice work as that, and I did not wish to do it when fagged by a long journey. I have seen young McCarthy." "And what did you learn from him?" "Nothing." "Could he throw no light?" "None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew who had done it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced now that he is as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very quick-witted youth, though comely to look at and, I should think, sound at heart." "I cannot admire his taste," I remarked, "if it is indeed a fact that he was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as this Miss Turner." "Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was only a lad, and before he really knew her, for she had been away five years at a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get into the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a registry office? No one knows a word of the matter, but you can imagine how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not doing what he would give his very eyes to do, but what he knows to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of this sort which made him throw his hands up into the air when his father, at their last interview, was goading him on to propose to Miss Turner. On the other hand, he had no means of supporting himself, and his father, who was by all accounts a very hard man, would have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. It was with his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Mark that point. It is of importance. Good has come out of evil, however, for the barmaid, finding from the papers that he is in serious trouble and likely to be hanged, has thrown him over utterly and has written to him to say that she has a husband already in the Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is really no tie between them. I think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all that he has suffered." "But if he is innocent, who has done it?" "Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two points. One is that the murdered man had an appointment with someone at the pool, and that the someone could not have been his son, for his son was away, and he did not know when he would return. The second is that the murdered man was heard to cry 'Cooee!' before he knew that his son had returned. Those are the crucial points upon which the case depends. And now let us talk about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave all minor matters until to-morrow." There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke bright and cloudless. At nine o'clock Lestrade called for us with the carriage, and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool. "There is serious news this morning," Lestrade observed. "It is said that Mr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is despaired of." "An elderly man, I presume?" said Holmes. "About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life abroad, and he has been in failing health for some time. This business has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend of McCarthy's, and, I may add, a great benefactor to him, for I have learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free." "Indeed! That is interesting," said Holmes. "Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody about here speaks of his kindness to him." "Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this McCarthy, who appears to have had little of his own, and to have been under such obligations to Turner, should still talk of marrying his son to Turner's daughter, who is, presumably, heiress to the estate, and that in such a very cocksure manner, as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all else would follow? It is the more strange, since we know that Turner himself was averse to the idea. The daughter told us as much. Do you not deduce something from that?" "We have got to the deductions and the inferences," said Lestrade, winking at me. "I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, without flying away after theories and fancies." "You are right," said Holmes demurely; "you do find it very hard to tackle the facts." "Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult to get hold of," replied Lestrade with some warmth. "And that is--" "That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine." "Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog," said Holmes, laughing. "But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the left." "Yes, that is it." It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building, two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches of lichen upon the grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, gave it a stricken look, as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy upon it. We called at the door, when the maid, at Holmes' request, showed us the boots which her master wore at the time of his death, and also a pair of the son's, though not the pair which he had then had. Having measured these very carefully from seven or eight different points, Holmes desired to be led to the court-yard, from which we all followed the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool. Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. His face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and his mind was so absolutely concentrated upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a quick, impatient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way along the track which ran through the meadows, and so by way of the woods to the Boscombe Pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that district, and there were marks of many feet, both upon the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on either side. Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and once he made quite a little detour into the meadow. Lestrade and I walked behind him, the detective indifferent and contemptuous, while I watched my friend with the interest which sprang from the conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards a definite end. The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red, jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowner's dwelling. On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be read upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my companion. "What did you go into the pool for?" he asked. "I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon or other trace. But how on earth--" "Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its inward twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it. Here is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they have covered all tracks for six or eight feet round the body. But here are three separate tracks of the same feet." He drew out a lens and lay down upon his waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to himself than to us. "These are young McCarthy's feet. Twice he was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are the father's feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again--of course that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?" He ran up and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the highroad, where all traces were lost. "It has been a case of considerable interest," he remarked, returning to his natural manner. "I fancy that this grey house on the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently." It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had picked up in the wood. "This may interest you, Lestrade," he remarked, holding it out. "The murder was done with it." "I see no marks." "There are none." "How do you know, then?" "The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon." "And the murderer?" "Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us in our search." Lestrade laughed. "I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," he said. "Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headed British jury." "Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly. "You work your own method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, and shall probably return to London by the evening train." "And leave your case unfinished?" "No, finished." "But the mystery?" "It is solved." "Who was the criminal, then?" "The gentleman I describe." "But who is he?" "Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a populous neighbourhood." Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am a practical man," he said, "and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the laughing-stock of Scotland Yard." "All right," said Holmes quietly. "I have given you the chance. Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before I leave." Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds himself in a perplexing position. "Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared "just sit down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don't know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a cigar and let me expound." "Pray do so." "Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly, although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One was the fact that his father should, according to his account, cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but that was all that caught the son's ear. Now from this double point our research must commence, and we will begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true." "What of this 'Cooee!' then?" "Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that he was within earshot. The 'Cooee!' was meant to attract the attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia." "What of the rat, then?" Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened it out on the table. "This is a map of the Colony of Victoria," he said. "I wired to Bristol for it last night." He put his hand over part of the map. "What do you read?" "ARAT," I read. "And now?" He raised his hand. "BALLARAT." "Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat." "It is wonderful!" I exclaimed. "It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point which, granting the son's statement to be correct, was a certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak." "Certainly." "And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could hardly wander." "Quite so." "Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal." "But how did you gain them?" "You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles." "His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces." "Yes, they were peculiar boots." "But his lameness?" "The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped--he was lame." "But his left-handedness." "You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam." "And the cigar-holder?" "I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife." "Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this man from which he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the direction in which all this points. The culprit is--" "Mr. John Turner," cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor. The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and of character. His tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows combined to give an air of dignity and power to his appearance, but his face was of an ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease. "Pray sit down on the sofa," said Holmes gently. "You had my note?" "Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to see me here to avoid scandal." "I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall." "And why did you wish to see me?" He looked across at my companion with despair in his weary eyes, as though his question was already answered. "Yes," said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. "It is so. I know all about McCarthy." The old man sank his face in his hands. "God help me!" he cried. "But I would not have let the young man come to harm. I give you my word that I would have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes." "I am glad to hear you say so," said Holmes gravely. "I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It would break her heart--it will break her heart when she hears that I am arrested." "It may not come to that," said Holmes. "What?" "I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter who required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. Young McCarthy must be got off, however." "I am a dying man," said old Turner. "I have had diabetes for years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month. Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol." Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand and a bundle of paper before him. "Just tell us the truth," he said. "I shall jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson here can witness it. Then I could produce your confession at the last extremity to save young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutely needed." "It's as well," said the old man; "it's a question whether I shall live to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should wish to spare Alice the shock. And now I will make the thing clear to you; it has been a long time in the acting, but will not take me long to tell. "You didn't know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil incarnate. I tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he. His grip has been upon me these twenty years, and he has blasted my life. I'll tell you first how I came to be in his power. "It was in the early '60's at the diggings. I was a young chap then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what you would call over here a highway robber. There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station from time to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang. "One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the first volley. Three of our boys were killed, however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of the wagon-driver, who was this very man McCarthy. I wish to the Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him, though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, and made our way over to England without being suspected. There I parted from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in the market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money, to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married, too, and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice. Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down the right path as nothing else had ever done. In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All was going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me. "I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot. "'Here we are, Jack,' says he, touching me on the arm; 'we'll be as good as a family to you. There's two of us, me and my son, and you can have the keeping of us. If you don't--it's a fine, law-abiding country is England, and there's always a policeman within hail.' "Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking them off, and there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since. There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; turn where I would, there was his cunning, grinning face at my elbow. It grew worse as Alice grew up, for he soon saw I was more afraid of her knowing my past than of the police. Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave him without question, land, money, houses, until at last he asked a thing which I could not give. He asked for Alice. "His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I was known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that his lad should step into the whole property. But there I was firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him, and that was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do his worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between our houses to talk it over. "When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. But as I listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed to come uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as little regard for what she might think as if she were a slut from off the streets. It drove me mad to think that I and all that I held most dear should be in the power of such a man as this. Could I not snap the bond? I was already a dying and a desperate man. Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, I knew that my own fate was sealed. But my memory and my girl! Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue. I did it, Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have sinned, I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it. But that my girl should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more than I could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction than if he had been some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought back his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood, though I was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in my flight. That is the true story, gentlemen, of all that occurred." "Well, it is not for me to judge you," said Holmes as the old man signed the statement which had been drawn out. "I pray that we may never be exposed to such a temptation." "I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?" "In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes. I will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is condemned I shall be forced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and your secret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us." "Farewell, then," said the old man solemnly. "Your own deathbeds, when they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace which you have given to mine." Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame, he stumbled slowly from the room. "God help us!" said Holmes after a long silence. "Why does fate play such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words, and say, 'There, but for the grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.'" James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven months after our interview, but he is now dead; and there is every prospect that the son and daughter may come to live happily together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their past. ADVENTURE V. THE FIVE ORANGE PIPS When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases between the years '82 and '90, I am faced by so many which present strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know which to choose and which to leave. Some, however, have already gained publicity through the papers, and others have not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed in so high a degree, and which it is the object of these papers to illustrate. Some, too, have baffled his analytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without an ending, while others have been but partially cleared up, and have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to him. There is, however, one of these last which was so remarkable in its details and so startling in its results that I am tempted to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are points in connection with it which never have been, and probably never will be, entirely cleared up. The year '87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater or less interest, of which I retain the records. Among my headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of the British barque "Sophy Anderson", of the singular adventures of the Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the Camberwell poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man's watch, to prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and that therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time--a deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the case. All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none of them present such singular features as the strange train of circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe. It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence of those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the other was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea-stories until the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother's, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street. "Why," said I, glancing up at my companion, "that was surely the bell. Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?" "Except yourself I have none," he answered. "I do not encourage visitors." "A client, then?" "If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out on such a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more likely to be some crony of the landlady's." Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit. "Come in!" said he. The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside, well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and delicacy in his bearing. The streaming umbrella which he held in his hand, and his long shining waterproof told of the fierce weather through which he had come. He looked about him anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man who is weighed down with some great anxiety. "I owe you an apology," he said, raising his golden pince-nez to his eyes. "I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I have brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug chamber." "Give me your coat and umbrella," said Holmes. "They may rest here on the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up from the south-west, I see." "Yes, from Horsham." "That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite distinctive." "I have come for advice." "That is easily got." "And help." "That is not always so easy." "I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergast how you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal." "Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards." "He said that you could solve anything." "He said too much." "That you are never beaten." "I have been beaten four times--three times by men, and once by a woman." "But what is that compared with the number of your successes?" "It is true that I have been generally successful." "Then you may be so with me." "I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me with some details as to your case." "It is no ordinary one." "None of those which come to me are. I am the last court of appeal." "And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events than those which have happened in my own family." "You fill me with interest," said Holmes. "Pray give us the essential facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards question you as to those details which seem to me to be most important." The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out towards the blaze. "My name," said he, "is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have, as far as I can understand, little to do with this awful business. It is a hereditary matter; so in order to give you an idea of the facts, I must go back to the commencement of the affair. "You must know that my grandfather had two sons--my uncle Elias and my father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry, which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. He was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his business met with such success that he was able to sell it and to retire upon a handsome competence. "My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and became a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have done very well. At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's army, and afterwards under Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. When Lee laid down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation, where he remained for three or four years. About 1869 or 1870 he came back to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex, near Horsham. He had made a very considerable fortune in the States, and his reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes, and his dislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise to them. He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, very foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiring disposition. During all the years that he lived at Horsham, I doubt if ever he set foot in the town. He had a garden and two or three fields round his house, and there he would take his exercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never leave his room. He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very heavily, but he would see no society and did not want any friends, not even his own brother. "He didn't mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. This would be in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years in England. He begged my father to let me live with him and he was very kind to me in his way. When he was sober he used to be fond of playing backgammon and draughts with me, and he would make me his representative both with the servants and with the tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite master of the house. I kept all the keys and could go where I liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in his privacy. There was one singular exception, however, for he had a single room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was invariably locked, and which he would never permit either me or anyone else to enter. With a boy's curiosity I have peeped through the keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such a collection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such a room. "One day--it was in March, 1883--a letter with a foreign stamp lay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate. It was not a common thing for him to receive letters, for his bills were all paid in ready money, and he had no friends of any sort. 'From India!' said he as he took it up, 'Pondicherry postmark! What can this be?' Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped five little dried orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate. I began to laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight of his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, his skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which he still held in his trembling hand, 'K. K. K.!' he shrieked, and then, 'My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!' "'What is it, uncle?' I cried. "'Death,' said he, and rising from the table he retired to his room, leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the letter K three times repeated. There was nothing else save the five dried pips. What could be the reason of his overpowering terror? I left the breakfast-table, and as I ascended the stair I met him coming down with an old rusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a small brass box, like a cashbox, in the other. "'They may do what they like, but I'll checkmate them still,' said he with an oath. 'Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.' "I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to step up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass box stood open and empty beside it. As I glanced at the box I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the envelope. "'I wish you, John,' said my uncle, 'to witness my will. I leave my estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. I am sorry to give you such a two-edged thing, but I can't say what turn things are going to take. Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.' "I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him. The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind without being able to make anything of it. Yet I could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left behind, though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives. I could see a change in my uncle, however. He drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of society. Most of his time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon the inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man, and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by man or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a man who can brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies at the roots of his soul. At such times I have seen his face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin. "Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunken sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went to search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of 'suicide.' But I, who knew how he winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed, however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and of some 14,000 pounds, which lay to his credit at the bank." "One moment," Holmes interposed, "your statement is, I foresee, one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of his supposed suicide." "The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks later, upon the night of May 2nd." "Thank you. Pray proceed." "When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up. We found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed. On the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and 'Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register' written beneath. These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle's life in America. Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier. Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North. "Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my father came to live at Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of '85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There he was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at what he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon himself. "'Why, what on earth does this mean, John?' he stammered. "My heart had turned to lead. 'It is K. K. K.,' said I. "He looked inside the envelope. 'So it is,' he cried. 'Here are the very letters. But what is this written above them?' "'Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over his shoulder. "'What papers? What sundial?' he asked. "'The sundial in the garden. There is no other,' said I; 'but the papers must be those that are destroyed.' "'Pooh!' said he, gripping hard at his courage. 'We are in a civilised land here, and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind. Where does the thing come from?' "'From Dundee,' I answered, glancing at the postmark. "'Some preposterous practical joke,' said he. 'What have I to do with sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such nonsense.' "'I should certainly speak to the police,' I said. "'And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.' "'Then let me do so?' "'No, I forbid you. I won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.' "It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate man. I went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings. "On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went from home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from danger when he was away from home. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to come at once. My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. I hurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recovered his consciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning from Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him, and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'death from accidental causes.' Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death, I was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of murder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery, no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads. And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been woven round him. "In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me why I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my uncle's life, and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another. "It was in January, '85, that my poor father met his end, and two years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that this curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended with the last generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon, however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in which it had come upon my father." The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange pips. "This is the envelope," he continued. "The postmark is London--eastern division. Within are the very words which were upon my father's last message: 'K. K. K.'; and then 'Put the papers on the sundial.'" "What have you done?" asked Holmes. "Nothing." "Nothing?" "To tell the truth"--he sank his face into his thin, white hands--"I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can guard against." "Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you are lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for despair." "I have seen the police." "Ah!" "But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with the warnings." Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. "Incredible imbecility!" he cried. "They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in the house with me." "Has he come with you to-night?" "No. His orders were to stay in the house." Again Holmes raved in the air. "Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did you not come at once?" "I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to you." "It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have acted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail which might help us?" "There is one thing," said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted paper, he laid it out upon the table. "I have some remembrance," said he, "that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheet upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think myself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing is undoubtedly my uncle's." Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the following enigmatical notices: "4th. Hudson came. Same old platform. "7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and John Swain, of St. Augustine. "9th. McCauley cleared. "10th. John Swain cleared. "12th. Visited Paramore. All well." "Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it to our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose another instant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told me. You must get home instantly and act." "What shall I do?" "There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which you have described. You must also put in a note to say that all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and that this is the only one which remains. You must assert that in such words as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, you must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Do you understand?" "Entirely." "Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens you. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the guilty parties." "I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on his overcoat. "You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall certainly do as you advise." "Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you go back?" "By train from Waterloo." "It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely." "I am armed." "That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case." "I shall see you at Horsham, then?" "No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it." "Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every particular." He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by them once more. Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling. "I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this." "Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four." "Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos." "But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to what these perils are?" "There can be no question as to their nature," he answered. "Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue this unhappy family?" Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the arms of his chair, with his finger-tips together. "The ideal reasoner," he remarked, "would, when he had once been shown a single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and this in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so impossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I have endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits in a very precise fashion." "Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document. Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the main points of my analysis." Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," he said, "I say now, as I said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which has been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K of the 'American Encyclopaedia' which stands upon the shelf beside you. Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for the lonely life of an English provincial town. His extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of someone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from America. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that by considering the formidable letters which were received by himself and his successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?" "The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the third from London." "From East London. What do you deduce from that?" "They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship." "Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that the probability--the strong probability--is that the writer was on board of a ship. And now let us consider another point. In the case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days. Does that suggest anything?" "A greater distance to travel." "But the letter had also a greater distance to come." "Then I do not see the point." "There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or men are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send their singular warning or token before them when starting upon their mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee. If they had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter. But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. I think that those seven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat which brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the writer." "It is possible." "More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly urgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to caution. The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which it would take the senders to travel the distance. But this one comes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay." "Good God!" I cried. "What can it mean, this relentless persecution?" "The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them. A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner's jury. There must have been several in it, and they must have been men of resource and determination. Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may. In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society." "But of what society?" "Have you never--" said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and sinking his voice--"have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?" "I never have." Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. "Here it is," said he presently: "'Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to the sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret society was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the Southern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed local branches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power was used for political purposes, principally for the terrorising of the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country of those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usually preceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic but generally recognised shape--a sprig of oak-leaves in some parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this the victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or might fly from the country. If he braved the matter out, death would unfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner. So perfect was the organisation of the society, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly a case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it with impunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the perpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spite of the efforts of the United States government and of the better classes of the community in the South. Eventually, in the year 1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there have been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.' "You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "that the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may well have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. You can understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the first men in the South, and that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered." "Then the page we have seen--" "Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, 'sent the pips to A, B, and C'--that is, sent the society's warning to them. Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or left the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into this dark place, and I believe that the only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I have told him. There is nothing more to be said or to be done to-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellow-men." It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city. Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down. "You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I have, I foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of young Openshaw's." "What steps will you take?" I asked. "It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I may have to go down to Horsham, after all." "You will not go there first?" "No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the maid will bring up your coffee." As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and glanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a chill to my heart. "Holmes," I cried, "you are too late." "Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much. How was it done?" He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved. "My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'Tragedy Near Waterloo Bridge.' Here is the account: "Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and a splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and stormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it was quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was given, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was eventually recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket, was John Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catch the last train from Waterloo Station, and that in his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge of one of the small landing-places for river steamboats. The body exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident, which should have the effect of calling the attention of the authorities to the condition of the riverside landing-stages." We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken than I had ever seen him. "That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last. "It is a petty feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my hand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that I should send him away to his death--!" He sprang from his chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin hands. "They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How could they have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the direct line to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such a night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in the long run. I am going out now!" "To the police?" "No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take the flies, but not before." All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes had not come back yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before he entered, looking pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously, washing it down with a long draught of water. "You are hungry," I remarked. "Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since breakfast." "Nothing?" "Not a bite. I had no time to think of it." "And how have you succeeded?" "Well." "You have a clue?" "I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall not long remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish trade-mark upon them. It is well thought of!" "What do you mean?" He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he squeezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five and thrust them into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote "S. H. for J. O." Then he sealed it and addressed it to "Captain James Calhoun, Barque 'Lone Star,' Savannah, Georgia." "That will await him when he enters port," said he, chuckling. "It may give him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure a precursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him." "And who is this Captain Calhoun?" "The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first." "How did you trace it, then?" He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with dates and names. "I have spent the whole day," said he, "over Lloyd's registers and files of the old papers, following the future career of every vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in '83. There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during those months. Of these, one, the 'Lone Star,' instantly attracted my attention, since, although it was reported as having cleared from London, the name is that which is given to one of the states of the Union." "Texas, I think." "I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must have an American origin." "What then?" "I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque 'Lone Star' was there in January, '85, my suspicion became a certainty. I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present in the port of London." "Yes?" "The 'Lone Star' had arrived here last week. I went down to the Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by the early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired to Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, and as the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight." "What will you do, then?" "Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as I learn, the only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are Finns and Germans. I know, also, that they were all three away from the ship last night. I had it from the stevedore who has been loading their cargo. By the time that their sailing-ship reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter, and the cable will have informed the police of Savannah that these three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder." There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, and the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the orange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and as resolute as themselves, was upon their track. Very long and very severe were the equinoctial gales that year. We waited long for news of the "Lone Star" of Savannah, but none ever reached us. We did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a shattered stern-post of a boat was seen swinging in the trough of a wave, with the letters "L. S." carved upon it, and that is all which we shall ever know of the fate of the "Lone Star." ADVENTURE VI. THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP Isa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal of the Theological College of St. George's, was much addicted to opium. The habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some foolish freak when he was at college; for having read De Quincey's description of his dreams and sensations, he had drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the same effects. He found, as so many more have done, that the practice is easier to attain than to get rid of, and for many years he continued to be a slave to the drug, an object of mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see him now, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble man. One night--it was in June, '89--there came a ring to my bell, about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock. I sat up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment. "A patient!" said she. "You'll have to go out." I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day. We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room. "You will excuse my calling so late," she began, and then, suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms about my wife's neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. "Oh, I'm in such trouble!" she cried; "I do so want a little help." "Why," said my wife, pulling up her veil, "it is Kate Whitney. How you startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when you came in." "I didn't know what to do, so I came straight to you." That was always the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a light-house. "It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine and water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Or should you rather that I sent James off to bed?" "Oh, no, no! I want the doctor's advice and help, too. It's about Isa. He has not been home for two days. I am so frightened about him!" It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her husband's trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend and school companion. We soothed and comforted her by such words as we could find. Did she know where her husband was? Was it possible that we could bring him back to her? It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late he had, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in the farthest east of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been confined to one day, and he had come back, twitching and shattered, in the evening. But now the spell had been upon him eight-and-forty hours, and he lay there, doubtless among the dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison or sleeping off the effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of it, at the Bar of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? How could she, a young and timid woman, make her way into such a place and pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him? There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of it. Might I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second thought, why should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney's medical adviser, and as such I had influence over him. I could manage it better if I were alone. I promised her on my word that I would send him home in a cab within two hours if he were indeed at the address which she had given me. And so in ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me, and was speeding eastward in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed to me at the time, though the future only could show how strange it was to be. But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure. Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which line the north side of the river to the east of London Bridge. Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the mouth of a cave, I found the den of which I was in search. Ordering my cab to wait, I passed down the steps, worn hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door I found the latch and made my way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with the brown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the forecastle of an emigrant ship. Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying in strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads thrown back, and chins pointing upward, with here and there a dark, lack-lustre eye turned upon the newcomer. Out of the black shadows there glimmered little red circles of light, now bright, now faint, as the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of the metal pipes. The most lay silent, but some muttered to themselves, and others talked together in a strange, low, monotonous voice, their conversation coming in gushes, and then suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out his own thoughts and paying little heed to the words of his neighbour. At the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thin old man, with his jaw resting upon his two fists, and his elbows upon his knees, staring into the fire. As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe for me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth. "Thank you. I have not come to stay," said I. "There is a friend of mine here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him." There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and peering through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and unkempt, staring out at me. "My God! It's Watson," said he. He was in a pitiable state of reaction, with every nerve in a twitter. "I say, Watson, what o'clock is it?" "Nearly eleven." "Of what day?" "Of Friday, June 19th." "Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What d'you want to frighten a chap for?" He sank his face onto his arms and began to sob in a high treble key. "I tell you that it is Friday, man. Your wife has been waiting this two days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself!" "So I am. But you've got mixed, Watson, for I have only been here a few hours, three pipes, four pipes--I forget how many. But I'll go home with you. I wouldn't frighten Kate--poor little Kate. Give me your hand! Have you a cab?" "Yes, I have one waiting." "Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find what I owe, Watson. I am all off colour. I can do nothing for myself." I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers, holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefying fumes of the drug, and looking about for the manager. As I passed the tall man who sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my skirt, and a low voice whispered, "Walk past me, and then look back at me." The words fell quite distinctly upon my ear. I glanced down. They could only have come from the old man at my side, and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever, very thin, very wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling down from between his knees, as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from his fingers. I took two steps forward and looked back. It took all my self-control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry of astonishment. He had turned his back so that none could see him but I. His form had filled out, his wrinkles were gone, the dull eyes had regained their fire, and there, sitting by the fire and grinning at my surprise, was none other than Sherlock Holmes. He made a slight motion to me to approach him, and instantly, as he turned his face half round to the company once more, subsided into a doddering, loose-lipped senility. "Holmes!" I whispered, "what on earth are you doing in this den?" "As low as you can," he answered; "I have excellent ears. If you would have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend of yours I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with you." "I have a cab outside." "Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for he appears to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to say that you have thrown in your lot with me. If you will wait outside, I shall be with you in five minutes." It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes' requests, for they were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with such a quiet air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney was once confined in the cab my mission was practically accomplished; and for the rest, I could not wish anything better than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular adventures which were the normal condition of his existence. In a few minutes I had written my note, paid Whitney's bill, led him out to the cab, and seen him driven through the darkness. In a very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den, and I was walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes. For two streets he shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot. Then, glancing quickly round, he straightened himself out and burst into a hearty fit of laughter. "I suppose, Watson," said he, "that you imagine that I have added opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical views." "I was certainly surprised to find you there." "But not more so than I to find you." "I came to find a friend." "And I to find an enemy." "An enemy?" "Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural prey. Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry, and I have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblings of these sots, as I have done before now. Had I been recognised in that den my life would not have been worth an hour's purchase; for I have used it before now for my own purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it has sworn to have vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back of that building, near the corner of Paul's Wharf, which could tell some strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless nights." "What! You do not mean bodies?" "Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had 1000 pounds for every poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilest murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Neville St. Clair has entered it never to leave it more. But our trap should be here." He put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly--a signal which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance, followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses' hoofs. "Now, Watson," said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side lanterns. "You'll come with me, won't you?" "If I can be of use." "Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one." "The Cedars?" "Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair's house. I am staying there while I conduct the inquiry." "Where is it, then?" "Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us." "But I am all in the dark." "Of course you are. You'll know all about it presently. Jump up here. All right, John; we shall not need you. Here's half a crown. Look out for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her head. So long, then!" He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which widened gradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge, with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only by the heavy, regular footfall of the policeman, or the songs and shouts of some belated party of revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with his head sunk upon his breast, and the air of a man who is lost in thought, while I sat beside him, curious to learn what this new quest might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to break in upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several miles, and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of suburban villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and lit up his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that he is acting for the best. "You have a grand gift of silence, Watson," said he. "It makes you quite invaluable as a companion. 'Pon my word, it is a great thing for me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear little woman to-night when she meets me at the door." "You forget that I know nothing about it." "I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before we get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can get nothing to go upon. There's plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can't get the end of it into my hand. Now, I'll state the case clearly and concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all is dark to me." "Proceed, then." "Some years ago--to be definite, in May, 1884--there came to Lee a gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, and lived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends in the neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer, by whom he now has two children. He had no occupation, but was interested in several companies and went into town as a rule in the morning, returning by the 5:14 from Cannon Street every night. Mr. St. Clair is now thirty-seven years of age, is a man of temperate habits, a good husband, a very affectionate father, and a man who is popular with all who know him. I may add that his whole debts at the present moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to 88 pounds 10s., while he has 220 pounds standing to his credit in the Capital and Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money troubles have been weighing upon his mind. "Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier than usual, remarking before he started that he had two important commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his wife received a telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after his departure, to the effect that a small parcel of considerable value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Now, if you are well up in your London, you will know that the office of the company is in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where you found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair had her lunch, started for the City, did some shopping, proceeded to the company's office, got her packet, and found herself at exactly 4:35 walking through Swandam Lane on her way back to the station. Have you followed me so far?" "It is very clear." "If you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and Mrs. St. Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, as she did not like the neighbourhood in which she found herself. While she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane, she suddenly heard an ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see her husband looking down at her and, as it seemed to her, beckoning to her from a second-floor window. The window was open, and she distinctly saw his face, which she describes as being terribly agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her, and then vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind. One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started to town in, he had on neither collar nor necktie. "Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the steps--for the house was none other than the opium den in which you found me to-night--and running through the front room she attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the first floor. At the foot of the stairs, however, she met this Lascar scoundrel of whom I have spoken, who thrust her back and, aided by a Dane, who acts as assistant there, pushed her out into the street. Filled with the most maddening doubts and fears, she rushed down the lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno Street a number of constables with an inspector, all on their way to their beat. The inspector and two men accompanied her back, and in spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor, they made their way to the room in which Mr. St. Clair had last been seen. There was no sign of him there. In fact, in the whole of that floor there was no one to be found save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who, it seems, made his home there. Both he and the Lascar stoutly swore that no one else had been in the front room during the afternoon. So determined was their denial that the inspector was staggered, and had almost come to believe that Mrs. St. Clair had been deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at a small deal box which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it. Out there fell a cascade of children's bricks. It was the toy which he had promised to bring home. "This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple showed, made the inspector realise that the matter was serious. The rooms were carefully examined, and results all pointed to an abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves. Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but is covered at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water. The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below. On examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill, and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were all the clothes of Mr. Neville St. Clair, with the exception of his coat. His boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch--all were there. There were no signs of violence upon any of these garments, and there were no other traces of Mr. Neville St. Clair. Out of the window he must apparently have gone for no other exit could be discovered, and the ominous bloodstains upon the sill gave little promise that he could save himself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of the tragedy. "And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in the matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the vilest antecedents, but as, by Mrs. St. Clair's story, he was known to have been at the foot of the stair within a very few seconds of her husband's appearance at the window, he could hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime. His defence was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested that he had no knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and that he could not account in any way for the presence of the missing gentleman's clothes. "So much for the Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who lives upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St. Clair. His name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is one which is familiar to every man who goes much to the City. He is a professional beggar, though in order to avoid the police regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. Some little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the left-hand side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall. Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat, cross-legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he is a piteous spectacle a small rain of charity descends into the greasy leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I have watched the fellow more than once before ever I thought of making his professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time. His appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him without observing him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its contraction, has turned up the outer edge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a singular contrast to the colour of his hair, all mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does his wit, for he is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be thrown at him by the passers-by. This is the man whom we now learn to have been the lodger at the opium den, and to have been the last man to see the gentleman of whom we are in quest." "But a cripple!" said I. "What could he have done single-handed against a man in the prime of life?" "He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in other respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man. Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that weakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional strength in the others." "Pray continue your narrative." "Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window, and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as her presence could be of no help to them in their investigations. Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very careful examination of the premises, but without finding anything which threw any light upon the matter. One mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly, as he was allowed some few minutes during which he might have communicated with his friend the Lascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized and searched, without anything being found which could incriminate him. There were, it is true, some blood-stains upon his right shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which had been cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came from there, adding that he had been to the window not long before, and that the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from the same source. He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr. Neville St. Clair and swore that the presence of the clothes in his room was as much a mystery to him as to the police. As to Mrs. St. Clair's assertion that she had actually seen her husband at the window, he declared that she must have been either mad or dreaming. He was removed, loudly protesting, to the police-station, while the inspector remained upon the premises in the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue. "And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they had feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair's coat, and not Neville St. Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. And what do you think they found in the pockets?" "I cannot imagine." "No, I don't think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed with pennies and half-pennies--421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. It was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide. But a human body is a different matter. There is a fierce eddy between the wharf and the house. It seemed likely enough that the weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked away into the river." "But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the room. Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?" "No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose that this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through the window, there is no human eye which could have seen the deed. What would he do then? It would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the tell-tale garments. He would seize the coat, then, and be in the act of throwing it out, when it would occur to him that it would swim and not sink. He has little time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when the wife tried to force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard from his Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street. There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret hoard, where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the pockets to make sure of the coat's sinking. He throws it out, and would have done the same with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below, and only just had time to close the window when the police appeared." "It certainly sounds feasible." "Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better. Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but it could not be shown that there had ever before been anything against him. He had for years been known as a professional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one. There the matter stands at present, and the questions which have to be solved--what Neville St. Clair was doing in the opium den, what happened to him when there, where is he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance--are all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at the first glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties." While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled along with a country hedge upon either side of us. Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scattered villages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows. "We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion. "We have touched on three English counties in our short drive, starting in Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. See that light among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I have little doubt, caught the clink of our horse's feet." "But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?" I asked. "Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for my friend and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!" We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse's head, and springing down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive which led to the house. As we approached, the door flew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her head and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing question. "Well?" she cried, "well?" And then, seeing that there were two of us, she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "No good news?" "None." "No bad?" "No." "Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have had a long day." "This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to bring him out and associate him with this investigation." "I am delighted to see you," said she, pressing my hand warmly. "You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly upon us." "My dear madam," said I, "I am an old campaigner, and if I were not I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be indeed happy." "Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the lady as we entered a well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had been laid out, "I should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plain answer." "Certainly, madam." "Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion." "Upon what point?" "In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?" Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. "Frankly, now!" she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair. "Frankly, then, madam, I do not." "You think that he is dead?" "I do." "Murdered?" "I don't say that. Perhaps." "And on what day did he meet his death?" "On Monday." "Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how it is that I have received a letter from him to-day." Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been galvanised. "What!" he roared. "Yes, to-day." She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of paper in the air. "May I see it?" "Certainly." He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend postmark and with the date of that very day, or rather of the day before, for it was considerably after midnight. "Coarse writing," murmured Holmes. "Surely this is not your husband's writing, madam." "No, but the enclosure is." "I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go and inquire as to the address." "How can you tell that?" "The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried itself. The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that blotting-paper has been used. If it had been written straight off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. This man has written the name, and there has then been a pause before he wrote the address, which can only mean that he was not familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha! there has been an enclosure here!" "Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring." "And you are sure that this is your husband's hand?" "One of his hands." "One?" "His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual writing, and yet I know it well." "'Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a huge error which it may take some little time to rectify. Wait in patience.--NEVILLE.' Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book, octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a person who had been chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that it is your husband's hand, madam?" "None. Neville wrote those words." "And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the danger is over." "But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes." "Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. The ring, after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from him." "No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!" "Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only posted to-day." "That is possible." "If so, much may have happened between." "Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him last he cut himself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to such a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?" "I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. And in this letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to corroborate your view. But if your husband is alive and able to write letters, why should he remain away from you?" "I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable." "And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?" "No." "And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?" "Very much so." "Was the window open?" "Yes." "Then he might have called to you?" "He might." "He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?" "Yes." "A call for help, you thought?" "Yes. He waved his hands." "But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?" "It is possible." "And you thought he was pulled back?" "He disappeared so suddenly." "He might have leaped back. You did not see anyone else in the room?" "No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and the Lascar was at the foot of the stairs." "Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his ordinary clothes on?" "But without his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare throat." "Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?" "Never." "Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?" "Never." "Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Those are the principal points about which I wished to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little supper and then retire, for we may have a very busy day to-morrow." A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our disposal, and I was quickly between the sheets, for I was weary after my night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who, when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for days, and even for a week, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that he was now preparing for an all-night sitting. He took off his coat and waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, and then wandered about the room collecting pillows from his bed and cushions from the sofa and armchairs. With these he constructed a sort of Eastern divan, upon which he perched himself cross-legged, with an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front of him. In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there, an old briar pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him, silent, motionless, with the light shining upon his strong-set aquiline features. So he sat as I dropped off to sleep, and so he sat when a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up, and I found the summer sun shining into the apartment. The pipe was still between his lips, the smoke still curled upward, and the room was full of a dense tobacco haze, but nothing remained of the heap of shag which I had seen upon the previous night. "Awake, Watson?" he asked. "Yes." "Game for a morning drive?" "Certainly." "Then dress. No one is stirring yet, but I know where the stable-boy sleeps, and we shall soon have the trap out." He chuckled to himself as he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he seemed a different man to the sombre thinker of the previous night. As I dressed I glanced at my watch. It was no wonder that no one was stirring. It was twenty-five minutes past four. I had hardly finished when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was putting in the horse. "I want to test a little theory of mine," said he, pulling on his boots. "I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to be kicked from here to Charing Cross. But I think I have the key of the affair now." "And where is it?" I asked, smiling. "In the bathroom," he answered. "Oh, yes, I am not joking," he continued, seeing my look of incredulity. "I have just been there, and I have taken it out, and I have got it in this Gladstone bag. Come on, my boy, and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock." We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and trap, with the half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head. We both sprang in, and away we dashed down the London Road. A few country carts were stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as some city in a dream. "It has been in some points a singular case," said Holmes, flicking the horse on into a gallop. "I confess that I have been as blind as a mole, but it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at all." In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily from their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side. Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river, and dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the right and found ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well known to the force, and the two constables at the door saluted him. One of them held the horse's head while the other led us in. "Who is on duty?" asked Holmes. "Inspector Bradstreet, sir." "Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?" A tall, stout official had come down the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. "I wish to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet." "Certainly, Mr. Holmes. Step into my room here." It was a small, office-like room, with a huge ledger upon the table, and a telephone projecting from the wall. The inspector sat down at his desk. "What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?" "I called about that beggarman, Boone--the one who was charged with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee." "Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries." "So I heard. You have him here?" "In the cells." "Is he quiet?" "Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel." "Dirty?" "Yes, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his face is as black as a tinker's. Well, when once his case has been settled, he will have a regular prison bath; and I think, if you saw him, you would agree with me that he needed it." "I should like to see him very much." "Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave your bag." "No, I think that I'll take it." "Very good. Come this way, if you please." He led us down a passage, opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side. "The third on the right is his," said the inspector. "Here it is!" He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced through. "He is asleep," said he. "You can see him very well." We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over his eyes and forehead. "He's a beauty, isn't he?" said the inspector. "He certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes. "I had an idea that he might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me." He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my astonishment, a very large bath-sponge. "He! he! You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector. "Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable figure." "Well, I don't know why not," said the inspector. "He doesn't look a credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?" He slipped his key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The sleeper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep slumber. Holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the prisoner's face. "Let me introduce you," he shouted, "to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee, in the county of Kent." Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man's face peeled off under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the coarse brown tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had seamed it across, and the twisted lip which had given the repulsive sneer to the face! A twitch brought away the tangled red hair, and there, sitting up in his bed, was a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a scream and threw himself down with his face to the pillow. "Great heavens!" cried the inspector, "it is, indeed, the missing man. I know him from the photograph." The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons himself to his destiny. "Be it so," said he. "And pray what am I charged with?" "With making away with Mr. Neville St.-- Oh, come, you can't be charged with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of it," said the inspector with a grin. "Well, I have been twenty-seven years in the force, but this really takes the cake." "If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime has been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally detained." "No crime, but a very great error has been committed," said Holmes. "You would have done better to have trusted your wife." "It was not the wife; it was the children," groaned the prisoner. "God help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My God! What an exposure! What can I do?" Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him kindly on the shoulder. "If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up," said he, "of course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible case against you, I do not know that there is any reason that the details should find their way into the papers. Inspector Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. The case would then never go into court at all." "God bless you!" cried the prisoner passionately. "I would have endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left my miserable secret as a family blot to my children. "You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent education. I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London. One day my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the metropolis, and I volunteered to supply them. There was the point from which all my adventures started. It was only by trying begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which to base my articles. When an actor I had, of course, learned all the secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for my skill. I took advantage now of my attainments. I painted my face, and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a small slip of flesh-coloured plaster. Then with a red head of hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the business part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned home in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no less than 26s. 4d. "I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, some time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ served upon me for 25 pounds. I was at my wit's end where to get the money, but a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight's grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers, and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise. In ten days I had the money and had paid the debt. "Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous work at 2 pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on the ground, and sitting still. It was a long fight between my pride and the money, but the dollars won at last, and I threw up reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of a low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where I could every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow, a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that my secret was safe in his possession. "Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of money. I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London could earn 700 pounds a year--which is less than my average takings--but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making up, and also in a facility of repartee, which improved by practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City. All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon me, and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take 2 pounds. "As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the country, and eventually married, without anyone having a suspicion as to my real occupation. My dear wife knew that I had business in the City. She little knew what. "Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, to my horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the street, with her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to prevent anyone from coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I knew that she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife's eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that the clothes might betray me. I threw open the window, reopening by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of constables up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to my relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St. Clair, I was arrested as his murderer. "I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me, together with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to fear." "That note only reached her yesterday," said Holmes. "Good God! What a week she must have spent!" "The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet, "and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to post a letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor customer of his, who forgot all about it for some days." "That was it," said Holmes, nodding approvingly; "I have no doubt of it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?" "Many times; but what was a fine to me?" "It must stop here, however," said Bradstreet. "If the police are to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone." "I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take." "In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. I am sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your results." "I reached this one," said my friend, "by sitting upon five pillows and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast." VII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the purpose of examination. "You are engaged," said I; "perhaps I interrupt you." "Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one"--he jerked his thumb in the direction of the old hat--"but there are points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of instruction." I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice crystals. "I suppose," I remarked, "that, homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it--that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime." "No, no. No crime," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such." "So much so," I remarked, "that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime." "Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?" "Yes." "It is to him that this trophy belongs." "It is his hat." "No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's fire. The facts are these: about four o'clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose." "Which surely he restored to their owner?" "My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that 'For Mrs. Henry Baker' was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird's left leg, and it is also true that the initials 'H. B.' are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them." "What, then, did Peterson do?" "He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner." "Did he not advertise?" "No." "Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?" "Only as much as we can deduce." "From his hat?" "Precisely." "But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered felt?" "Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?" I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker's name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials "H. B." were scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discoloured patches by smearing them with ink. "I can see nothing," said I, handing it back to my friend. "On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences." "Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?" He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him. "It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been," he remarked, "and yet there are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink, at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him." "My dear Holmes!" "He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect," he continued, disregarding my remonstrance. "He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house." "You are certainly joking, Holmes." "Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?" "I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was intellectual?" For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. "It is a question of cubic capacity," said he; "a man with so large a brain must have something in it." "The decline of his fortunes, then?" "This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world." "Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?" Sherlock Holmes laughed. "Here is the foresight," said he putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. "They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect." "Your reasoning is certainly plausible." "The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in the best of training." "But his wife--you said that she had ceased to love him." "This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection." "But he might be a bachelor." "Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife. Remember the card upon the bird's leg." "You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?" "One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow--walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?" "Well, it is very ingenious," said I, laughing; "but since, as you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy." Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment. "The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!" he gasped. "Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off through the kitchen window?" Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face. "See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!" He held out his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand. Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. "By Jove, Peterson!" said he, "this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you have got?" "A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were putty." "It's more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone." "Not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle!" I ejaculated. "Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjectured, but the reward offered of 1000 pounds is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market price." "A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!" The commissionaire plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us. "That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but recover the gem." "It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan," I remarked. "Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady's jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account of the matter here, I believe." He rummaged amid his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out, doubled it over, and read the following paragraph: "Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst., abstracted from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing-table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder's cry of dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she found matters as described by the last witness. Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who struggled frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court." "Hum! So much for the police-court," said Holmes thoughtfully, tossing aside the paper. "The question for us now to solve is the sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall have recourse to other methods." "What will you say?" "Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: 'Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.' That is clear and concise." "Very. But will he see it?" "Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor man, the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his mischance in breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that he thought of nothing but flight, but since then he must have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then, again, the introduction of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his attention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the evening papers." "In which, sir?" "Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James's, Evening News, Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you." "Very well, sir. And this stone?" "Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring." When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. "It's a bonny thing," said he. "Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and the prison? I'll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it." "Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?" "I cannot tell." "Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?" "It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer to our advertisement." "And you can do nothing until then?" "Nothing." "In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like to see the solution of so tangled a business." "Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop." I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes' room. "Mr. Henry Baker, I believe," said he, rising from his armchair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily assume. "Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?" "Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat." He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes' surmise as to his habits. His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned up, and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune. "We have retained these things for some days," said Holmes, "because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise." Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. "Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were," he remarked. "I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless attempt at recovering them." "Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat it." "To eat it!" Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement. "Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally well?" "Oh, certainly, certainly," answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief. "Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish--" The man burst into a hearty laugh. "They might be useful to me as relics of my adventure," said he, "but beyond that I can hardly see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are going to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard." Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "There is your hat, then, and there your bird," said he. "By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown goose." "Certainly, sir," said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gained property under his arm. "There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum--we are to be found in the Museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity." With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and strode off upon his way. "So much for Mr. Henry Baker," said Holmes when he had closed the door behind him. "It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?" "Not particularly." "Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue while it is still hot." "By all means." It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors' quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord. "Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese," said he. "My geese!" The man seemed surprised. "Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who was a member of your goose club." "Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them's not our geese." "Indeed! Whose, then?" "Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden." "Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?" "Breckinridge is his name." "Ah! I don't know him. Well, here's your good health landlord, and prosperity to your house. Good-night." "Now for Mr. Breckinridge," he continued, buttoning up his coat as we came out into the frosty air. "Remember, Watson that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years' penal servitude unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!" We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a horsey-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put up the shutters. "Good-evening. It's a cold night," said Holmes. The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion. "Sold out of geese, I see," continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble. "Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning." "That's no good." "Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare." "Ah, but I was recommended to you." "Who by?" "The landlord of the Alpha." "Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen." "Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?" To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the salesman. "Now, then, mister," said he, with his head cocked and his arms akimbo, "what are you driving at? Let's have it straight, now." "It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha." "Well then, I shan't tell you. So now!" "Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don't know why you should be so warm over such a trifle." "Warm! You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the business; but it's 'Where are the geese?' and 'Who did you sell the geese to?' and 'What will you take for the geese?' One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over them." "Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making inquiries," said Holmes carelessly. "If you won't tell us the bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country bred." "Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred," snapped the salesman. "It's nothing of the kind." "I say it is." "I don't believe it." "D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to the Alpha were town bred." "You'll never persuade me to believe that." "Will you bet, then?" "It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate." The salesman chuckled grimly. "Bring me the books, Bill," said he. The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp. "Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thought that I was out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that there is still one left in my shop. You see this little book?" "Well?" "That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. D'you see? Well, then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me." "Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road--249," read Holmes. "Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger." Holmes turned to the page indicated. "Here you are, 'Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.'" "Now, then, what's the last entry?" "'December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.'" "Quite so. There you are. And underneath?" "'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.'" "What have you to say now?" Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which was peculiar to him. "When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the 'Pink 'un' protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet," said he. "I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front of him, that man would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should--" His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure. "I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "I wish you were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese off you?" "No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little man. "Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it." "She told me to ask you." "Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I've had enough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness. "Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes. "Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow." Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of colour had been driven from his face. "Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quavering voice. "You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I think that I could be of assistance to you." "You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?" "My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don't know." "But you can know nothing of this?" "Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member." "Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. "I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter." Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this wind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me, before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting." The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," he answered with a sidelong glance. "No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always awkward doing business with an alias." A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Well then," said he, "my real name is James Ryder." "Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would wish to know." The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous tension within him. "Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. "The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what became of those geese?" "Yes, sir." "Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in which you were interested--white, with a black bar across the tail." Ryder quivered with emotion. "Oh, sir," he cried, "can you tell me where it went to?" "It came here." "Here?" "Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don't wonder that you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead--the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here in my museum." Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it. "The game's up, Ryder," said Holmes quietly. "Hold up, man, or you'll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!" For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened eyes at his accuser. "I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly need, so there is little which you need tell me. Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Countess of Morcar's?" "It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it," said he in a crackling voice. "I see--her ladyship's waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has been for better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous in the means you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that this man Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such matter before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him. What did you do, then? You made some small job in my lady's room--you and your confederate Cusack--and you managed that he should be the man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate man arrested. You then--" Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my companion's knees. "For God's sake, have mercy!" he shrieked. "Think of my father! Of my mother! It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before! I never will again. I swear it. I'll swear it on a Bible. Oh, don't bring it into court! For Christ's sake, don't!" "Get back into your chair!" said Holmes sternly. "It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing." "I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the charge against him will break down." "Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account of the next act. How came the stone into the goose, and how came the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of safety." Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. "I will tell you it just as it happened, sir," said he. "When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sister's house. She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; and, for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be best to do. "I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money. But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were waddling about round my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived. "My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she was always as good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds--a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and fluttered off among the others. "'Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?' says she. "'Well,' said I, 'you said you'd give me one for Christmas, and I was feeling which was the fattest.' "'Oh,' says she, 'we've set yours aside for you--Jem's bird, we call it. It's the big white one over yonder. There's twenty-six of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen for the market.' "'Thank you, Maggie,' says I; 'but if it is all the same to you, I'd rather have that one I was handling just now.' "'The other is a good three pound heavier,' said she, 'and we fattened it expressly for you.' "'Never mind. I'll have the other, and I'll take it now,' said I. "'Oh, just as you like,' said she, a little huffed. 'Which is it you want, then?' "'That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the flock.' "'Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.' "Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird, rushed back to my sister's, and hurried into the back yard. There was not a bird to be seen there. "'Where are they all, Maggie?' I cried. "'Gone to the dealer's, Jem.' "'Which dealer's?' "'Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.' "'But was there another with a barred tail?' I asked, 'the same as the one I chose?' "'Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never tell them apart.' "Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now--and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for which I sold my character. God help me! God help me!" He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands. There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes' finger-tips upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door. "Get out!" said he. "What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!" "No more words. Get out!" And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street. "After all, Watson," said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe, "I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to gaol now, and you make him a gaol-bird for life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature." VIII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth. It was early in April in the year '83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits. "Very sorry to knock you up, Watson," said he, "but it's the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you." "What is it, then--a fire?" "No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance." "My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything." I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as we entered. "Good-morning, madam," said Holmes cheerily. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe that you are shivering." "It is not cold which makes me shiver," said the woman in a low voice, changing her seat as requested. "What, then?" "It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror." She raised her veil as she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick, all-comprehensive glances. "You must not fear," said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm. "We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see." "You know me, then?" "No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station." The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my companion. "There is no mystery, my dear madam," said he, smiling. "The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand side of the driver." "Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct," said she. "I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to--none, save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married, with the control of my own income, and then at least you shall not find me ungrateful." Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, which he consulted. "Farintosh," said he. "Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which suits you best. And now I beg that you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the matter." "Alas!" replied our visitor, "the very horror of my situation lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me." "I am all attention, madam." "My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey." Holmes nodded his head. "The name is familiar to me," said he. "The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, obtained an advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man. "When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my mother's re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money--not less than 1000 pounds a year--and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return to England my mother died--she was killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness. "But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path. Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the family, and in my stepfather's case it had, I believe, been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger. "Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure. He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and he would give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered land which represent the family estate, and would accept in return the hospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the villagers almost as much as their master. "You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, even as mine has." "Your sister is dead, then?" "She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I have described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own age and position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother's maiden sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this lady's house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of marines, to whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and offered no objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion." Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now and glanced across at his visitor. "Pray be precise as to details," said he. "It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said, very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott's, the second my sister's, and the third my own. There is no communication between them, but they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?" "Perfectly so." "The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o'clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back. "'Tell me, Helen,' said she, 'have you ever heard anyone whistle in the dead of the night?' "'Never,' said I. "'I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your sleep?' "'Certainly not. But why?' "'Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from--perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask you whether you had heard it.' "'No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.' "'Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did not hear it also.' "'Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.' "'Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.' She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the lock." "Indeed," said Holmes. "Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night?" "Always." "And why?" "I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked." "Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement." "I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew that it was my sister's voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister's door was unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, 'Oh, my God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!' There was something else which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger into the air in the direction of the doctor's room, but a fresh convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his dressing-gown. When he reached my sister's side she was unconscious, and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and died without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister." "One moment," said Holmes, "are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound? Could you swear to it?" "That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived." "Was your sister dressed?" "No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box." "Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the coroner come to?" "He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott's conduct had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her." "How about poison?" "The doctors examined her for it, but without success." "What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?" "It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine." "Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?" "Yes, there are nearly always some there." "Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band--a speckled band?" "Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which she used." Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied. "These are very deep waters," said he; "pray go on with your narrative." "Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage--Percy Armitage--the second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice." "You have done wisely," said my friend. "But have you told me all?" "Yes, all." "Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather." "Why, what do you mean?" For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee. Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist. "You have been cruelly used," said Holmes. The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. "He is a hard man," she said, "and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength." There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire. "This is a very deep business," he said at last. "There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather?" "As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of the way." "Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?" "By no means." "Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?" "I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in town. But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to be there in time for your coming." "And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?" "No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon." She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided from the room. "And what do you think of it all, Watson?" asked Sherlock Holmes, leaning back in his chair. "It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business." "Dark enough and sinister enough." "Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious end." "What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very peculiar words of the dying woman?" "I cannot think." "When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines." "But what, then, did the gipsies do?" "I cannot imagine." "I see many objections to any such theory." "And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!" The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin, fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey. "Which of you is Holmes?" asked this apparition. "My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me," said my companion quietly. "I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran." "Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly. "Pray take a seat." "I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have traced her. What has she been saying to you?" "It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes. "What has she been saying to you?" screamed the old man furiously. "But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my companion imperturbably. "Ha! You put me off, do you?" said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking his hunting-crop. "I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler." My friend smiled. "Holmes, the busybody!" His smile broadened. "Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!" Holmes chuckled heartily. "Your conversation is most entertaining," said he. "When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught." "I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a dangerous man to fall foul of! See here." He stepped swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands. "See that you keep yourself out of my grip," he snarled, and hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room. "He seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing. "I am not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my grip was not much more feeble than his own." As he spoke he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again. "Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter." It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with notes and figures. "I have seen the will of the deceased wife," said he. "To determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which at the time of the wife's death was little short of 1100 pounds, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than 750 pounds. Each daughter can claim an income of 250 pounds, in case of marriage. It is evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to a very serious extent. My morning's work has not been wasted, since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need." At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows. "Look there!" said he. A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion. "Stoke Moran?" said he. "Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott," remarked the driver. "There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is where we are going." "There's the village," said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some distance to the left; "but if you want to get to the house, you'll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path over the fields. There it is, where the lady is walking." "And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner," observed Holmes, shading his eyes. "Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest." We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to Leatherhead. "I thought it as well," said Holmes as we climbed the stile, "that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on some definite business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word." Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke her joy. "I have been waiting so eagerly for you," she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. "All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before evening." "We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance," said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened. "Good heavens!" she cried, "he has followed me, then." "So it appears." "He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What will he say when he returns?" "He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt's at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine." The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the outsides of the windows. "This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one to your sister's, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott's chamber?" "Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one." "Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall." "There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room." "Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, of course?" "Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through." "As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?" Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. "Hum!" said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity, "my theory certainly presents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter." A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment. "Where does that bell communicate with?" he asked at last pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually lying upon the pillow. "It goes to the housekeeper's room." "It looks newer than the other things?" "Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago." "Your sister asked for it, I suppose?" "No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we wanted for ourselves." "Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor." He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug. "Why, it's a dummy," said he. "Won't it ring?" "No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little opening for the ventilator is." "How very absurd! I never noticed that before." "Very strange!" muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. "There are one or two very singular points about this room. For example, what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!" "That is also quite modern," said the lady. "Done about the same time as the bell-rope?" remarked Holmes. "Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time." "They seem to have been of a most interesting character--dummy bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the inner apartment." Dr. Grimesby Roylott's chamber was larger than that of his step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest interest. "What's in here?" he asked, tapping the safe. "My stepfather's business papers." "Oh! you have seen inside, then?" "Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers." "There isn't a cat in it, for example?" "No. What a strange idea!" "Well, look at this!" He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of it. "No; we don't keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon." "Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine." He squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with the greatest attention. "Thank you. That is quite settled," said he, rising and putting his lens in his pocket. "Hullo! Here is something interesting!" The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord. "What do you make of that, Watson?" "It's a common enough lash. But I don't know why it should be tied." "That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it's a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn." I had never seen my friend's face so grim or his brow so dark as it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from his reverie. "It is very essential, Miss Stoner," said he, "that you should absolutely follow my advice in every respect." "I shall most certainly do so." "The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend upon your compliance." "I assure you that I am in your hands." "In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room." Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment. "Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the village inn over there?" "Yes, that is the Crown." "Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?" "Certainly." "You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one night." "Oh, yes, easily." "The rest you will leave in our hands." "But what will you do?" "We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of this noise which has disturbed you." "I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind," said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion's sleeve. "Perhaps I have." "Then, for pity's sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister's death." "I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak." "You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if she died from some sudden fright." "No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you." Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the doctor's voice and saw the fury with which he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms. "Do you know, Watson," said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering darkness, "I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. There is a distinct element of danger." "Can I be of assistance?" "Your presence might be invaluable." "Then I shall certainly come." "It is very kind of you." "You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than was visible to me." "No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that you saw all that I did." "I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine." "You saw the ventilator, too?" "Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could hardly pass through." "I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke Moran." "My dear Holmes!" "Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her sister could smell Dr. Roylott's cigar. Now, of course that suggested at once that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the coroner's inquiry. I deduced a ventilator." "But what harm can there be in that?" "Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does not that strike you?" "I cannot as yet see any connection." "Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?" "No." "It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before?" "I cannot say that I have." "The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same relative position to the ventilator and to the rope--or so we may call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull." "Holmes," I cried, "I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime." "Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for goodness' sake let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more cheerful." About nine o'clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single bright light shone out right in front of us. "That is our signal," said Holmes, springing to his feet; "it comes from the middle window." As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it was possible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on our sombre errand. There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness. "My God!" I whispered; "did you see it?" Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put his lips to my ear. "It is a nice household," he murmured. "That is the baboon." I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes' example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom. My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to distinguish the words: "The least sound would be fatal to our plans." I nodded to show that I had heard. "We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator." I nodded again. "Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair." I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table. Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness. How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness. From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall. Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though the smell grew stronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became audible--a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with his cane at the bell-pull. "You see it, Watson?" he yelled. "You see it?" But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend lashed so savagely. I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing. He had ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled in the one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose. "What can it mean?" I gasped. "It means that it is all over," Holmes answered. "And perhaps, after all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. Roylott's room." With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within. Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cocked pistol in my hand. It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad in a long grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we had noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion. "The band! the speckled band!" whispered Holmes. I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent. "It is a swamp adder!" cried Holmes; "the deadliest snake in India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened." As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man's lap, and throwing the noose round the reptile's neck he drew it from its horrid perch and, carrying it at arm's length, threw it into the iron safe, which he closed upon it. Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back next day. "I had," said he, "come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word 'band,' which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not come either from the window or the door. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but sooner or later she must fall a victim. "I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he should reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to finally dispel any doubts which may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the light and attacked it." "With the result of driving it through the ventilator." "And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott's death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience." IX. THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENGINEER'S THUMB Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for solution during the years of our intimacy, there were only two which I was the means of introducing to his notice--that of Mr. Hatherley's thumb, and that of Colonel Warburton's madness. Of these the latter may have afforded a finer field for an acute and original observer, but the other was so strange in its inception and so dramatic in its details that it may be the more worthy of being placed upon record, even if it gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods of reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable results. The story has, I believe, been told more than once in the newspapers, but, like all such narratives, its effect is much less striking when set forth en bloc in a single half-column of print than when the facts slowly evolve before your own eyes, and the mystery clears gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads on to the complete truth. At the time the circumstances made a deep impression upon me, and the lapse of two years has hardly served to weaken the effect. It was in the summer of '89, not long after my marriage, that the events occurred which I am now about to summarise. I had returned to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker Street rooms, although I continually visited him and occasionally even persuaded him to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come and visit us. My practice had steadily increased, and as I happened to live at no very great distance from Paddington Station, I got a few patients from among the officials. One of these, whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease, was never weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring to send me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence. One morning, at a little before seven o'clock, I was awakened by the maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come from Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room. I dressed hurriedly, for I knew by experience that railway cases were seldom trivial, and hastened downstairs. As I descended, my old ally, the guard, came out of the room and closed the door tightly behind him. "I've got him here," he whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder; "he's all right." "What is it, then?" I asked, for his manner suggested that it was some strange creature which he had caged up in my room. "It's a new patient," he whispered. "I thought I'd bring him round myself; then he couldn't slip away. There he is, all safe and sound. I must go now, Doctor; I have my dooties, just the same as you." And off he went, this trusty tout, without even giving me time to thank him. I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleman seated by the table. He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a soft cloth cap which he had laid down upon my books. Round one of his hands he had a handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all over with bloodstains. He was young, not more than five-and-twenty, I should say, with a strong, masculine face; but he was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression of a man who was suffering from some strong agitation, which it took all his strength of mind to control. "I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor," said he, "but I have had a very serious accident during the night. I came in by train this morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I might find a doctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here. I gave the maid a card, but I see that she has left it upon the side-table." I took it up and glanced at it. "Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic engineer, 16A, Victoria Street (3rd floor)." That was the name, style, and abode of my morning visitor. "I regret that I have kept you waiting," said I, sitting down in my library-chair. "You are fresh from a night journey, I understand, which is in itself a monotonous occupation." "Oh, my night could not be called monotonous," said he, and laughed. He laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning back in his chair and shaking his sides. All my medical instincts rose up against that laugh. "Stop it!" I cried; "pull yourself together!" and I poured out some water from a caraffe. It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis is over and gone. Presently he came to himself once more, very weary and pale-looking. "I have been making a fool of myself," he gasped. "Not at all. Drink this." I dashed some brandy into the water, and the colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks. "That's better!" said he. "And now, Doctor, perhaps you would kindly attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb used to be." He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the thumb should have been. It had been hacked or torn right out from the roots. "Good heavens!" I cried, "this is a terrible injury. It must have bled considerably." "Yes, it did. I fainted when it was done, and I think that I must have been senseless for a long time. When I came to I found that it was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly round the wrist and braced it up with a twig." "Excellent! You should have been a surgeon." "It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own province." "This has been done," said I, examining the wound, "by a very heavy and sharp instrument." "A thing like a cleaver," said he. "An accident, I presume?" "By no means." "What! a murderous attack?" "Very murderous indeed." "You horrify me." I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered it over with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages. He lay back without wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time. "How is that?" I asked when I had finished. "Capital! Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man. I was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through." "Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It is evidently trying to your nerves." "Oh, no, not now. I shall have to tell my tale to the police; but, between ourselves, if it were not for the convincing evidence of this wound of mine, I should be surprised if they believed my statement, for it is a very extraordinary one, and I have not much in the way of proof with which to back it up; and, even if they believe me, the clues which I can give them are so vague that it is a question whether justice will be done." "Ha!" cried I, "if it is anything in the nature of a problem which you desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you to come to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you go to the official police." "Oh, I have heard of that fellow," answered my visitor, "and I should be very glad if he would take the matter up, though of course I must use the official police as well. Would you give me an introduction to him?" "I'll do better. I'll take you round to him myself." "I should be immensely obliged to you." "We'll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to have a little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal to it?" "Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story." "Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an instant." I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my wife, and in five minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my new acquaintance to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his sitting-room in his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The Times and smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed of all the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day before, all carefully dried and collected on the corner of the mantelpiece. He received us in his quietly genial fashion, ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and joined us in a hearty meal. When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance upon the sofa, placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid a glass of brandy and water within his reach. "It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, Mr. Hatherley," said he. "Pray, lie down there and make yourself absolutely at home. Tell us what you can, but stop when you are tired and keep up your strength with a little stimulant." "Thank you," said my patient, "but I have felt another man since the doctor bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has completed the cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable time as possible, so I shall start at once upon my peculiar experiences." Holmes sat in his big armchair with the weary, heavy-lidded expression which veiled his keen and eager nature, while I sat opposite to him, and we listened in silence to the strange story which our visitor detailed to us. "You must know," said he, "that I am an orphan and a bachelor, residing alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am a hydraulic engineer, and I have had considerable experience of my work during the seven years that I was apprenticed to Venner & Matheson, the well-known firm, of Greenwich. Two years ago, having served my time, and having also come into a fair sum of money through my poor father's death, I determined to start in business for myself and took professional chambers in Victoria Street. "I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in business a dreary experience. To me it has been exceptionally so. During two years I have had three consultations and one small job, and that is absolutely all that my profession has brought me. My gross takings amount to 27 pounds 10s. Every day, from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I waited in my little den, until at last my heart began to sink, and I came to believe that I should never have any practice at all. "Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who wished to see me upon business. He brought up a card, too, with the name of 'Colonel Lysander Stark' engraved upon it. Close at his heels came the colonel himself, a man rather over the middle size, but of an exceeding thinness. I do not think that I have ever seen so thin a man. His whole face sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over his outstanding bones. Yet this emaciation seemed to be his natural habit, and due to no disease, for his eye was bright, his step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was plainly but neatly dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be nearer forty than thirty. "'Mr. Hatherley?' said he, with something of a German accent. 'You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being a man who is not only proficient in his profession but is also discreet and capable of preserving a secret.' "I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an address. 'May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?' "'Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just at this moment. I have it from the same source that you are both an orphan and a bachelor and are residing alone in London.' "'That is quite correct,' I answered; 'but you will excuse me if I say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional qualifications. I understand that it was on a professional matter that you wished to speak to me?' "'Undoubtedly so. But you will find that all I say is really to the point. I have a professional commission for you, but absolute secrecy is quite essential--absolute secrecy, you understand, and of course we may expect that more from a man who is alone than from one who lives in the bosom of his family.' "'If I promise to keep a secret,' said I, 'you may absolutely depend upon my doing so.' "He looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I had never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye. "'Do you promise, then?' said he at last. "'Yes, I promise.' "'Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after? No reference to the matter at all, either in word or writing?' "'I have already given you my word.' "'Very good.' He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning across the room he flung open the door. The passage outside was empty. "'That's all right,' said he, coming back. 'I know that clerks are sometimes curious as to their master's affairs. Now we can talk in safety.' He drew up his chair very close to mine and began to stare at me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look. "A feeling of repulsion, and of something akin to fear had begun to rise within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man. Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from showing my impatience. "'I beg that you will state your business, sir,' said I; 'my time is of value.' Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the words came to my lips. "'How would fifty guineas for a night's work suit you?' he asked. "'Most admirably.' "'I say a night's work, but an hour's would be nearer the mark. I simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which has got out of gear. If you show us what is wrong we shall soon set it right ourselves. What do you think of such a commission as that?' "'The work appears to be light and the pay munificent.' "'Precisely so. We shall want you to come to-night by the last train.' "'Where to?' "'To Eyford, in Berkshire. It is a little place near the borders of Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of Reading. There is a train from Paddington which would bring you there at about 11:15.' "'Very good.' "'I shall come down in a carriage to meet you.' "'There is a drive, then?' "'Yes, our little place is quite out in the country. It is a good seven miles from Eyford Station.' "'Then we can hardly get there before midnight. I suppose there would be no chance of a train back. I should be compelled to stop the night.' "'Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.' "'That is very awkward. Could I not come at some more convenient hour?' "'We have judged it best that you should come late. It is to recompense you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you, a young and unknown man, a fee which would buy an opinion from the very heads of your profession. Still, of course, if you would like to draw out of the business, there is plenty of time to do so.' "I thought of the fifty guineas, and of how very useful they would be to me. 'Not at all,' said I, 'I shall be very happy to accommodate myself to your wishes. I should like, however, to understand a little more clearly what it is that you wish me to do.' "'Quite so. It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we have exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity. I have no wish to commit you to anything without your having it all laid before you. I suppose that we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers?' "'Entirely.' "'Then the matter stands thus. You are probably aware that fuller's-earth is a valuable product, and that it is only found in one or two places in England?' "'I have heard so.' "'Some little time ago I bought a small place--a very small place--within ten miles of Reading. I was fortunate enough to discover that there was a deposit of fuller's-earth in one of my fields. On examining it, however, I found that this deposit was a comparatively small one, and that it formed a link between two very much larger ones upon the right and left--both of them, however, in the grounds of my neighbours. These good people were absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which was quite as valuable as a gold-mine. Naturally, it was to my interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value, but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this. I took a few of my friends into the secret, however, and they suggested that we should quietly and secretly work our own little deposit and that in this way we should earn the money which would enable us to buy the neighbouring fields. This we have now been doing for some time, and in order to help us in our operations we erected a hydraulic press. This press, as I have already explained, has got out of order, and we wish your advice upon the subject. We guard our secret very jealously, however, and if it once became known that we had hydraulic engineers coming to our little house, it would soon rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts came out, it would be good-bye to any chance of getting these fields and carrying out our plans. That is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a human being that you are going to Eyford to-night. I hope that I make it all plain?' "'I quite follow you,' said I. 'The only point which I could not quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press in excavating fuller's-earth, which, as I understand, is dug out like gravel from a pit.' "'Ah!' said he carelessly, 'we have our own process. We compress the earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing what they are. But that is a mere detail. I have taken you fully into my confidence now, Mr. Hatherley, and I have shown you how I trust you.' He rose as he spoke. 'I shall expect you, then, at Eyford at 11:15.' "'I shall certainly be there.' "'And not a word to a soul.' He looked at me with a last long, questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand in a cold, dank grasp, he hurried from the room. "Well, when I came to think it all over in cool blood I was very much astonished, as you may both think, at this sudden commission which had been intrusted to me. On the one hand, of course, I was glad, for the fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked had I set a price upon my own services, and it was possible that this order might lead to other ones. On the other hand, the face and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant impression upon me, and I could not think that his explanation of the fuller's-earth was sufficient to explain the necessity for my coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell anyone of my errand. However, I threw all fears to the winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and started off, having obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue. "At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station. However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I reached the little dim-lit station after eleven o'clock. I was the only passenger who got out there, and there was no one upon the platform save a single sleepy porter with a lantern. As I passed out through the wicket gate, however, I found my acquaintance of the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side. Without a word he grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage, the door of which was standing open. He drew up the windows on either side, tapped on the wood-work, and away we went as fast as the horse could go." "One horse?" interjected Holmes. "Yes, only one." "Did you observe the colour?" "Yes, I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping into the carriage. It was a chestnut." "Tired-looking or fresh?" "Oh, fresh and glossy." "Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Pray continue your most interesting statement." "Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour. Colonel Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles, but I should think, from the rate that we seemed to go, and from the time that we took, that it must have been nearer twelve. He sat at my side in silence all the time, and I was aware, more than once when I glanced in his direction, that he was looking at me with great intensity. The country roads seem to be not very good in that part of the world, for we lurched and jolted terribly. I tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we were, but they were made of frosted glass, and I could make out nothing save the occasional bright blur of a passing light. Now and then I hazarded some remark to break the monotony of the journey, but the colonel answered only in monosyllables, and the conversation soon flagged. At last, however, the bumping of the road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness of a gravel-drive, and the carriage came to a stand. Colonel Lysander Stark sprang out, and, as I followed after him, pulled me swiftly into a porch which gaped in front of us. We stepped, as it were, right out of the carriage and into the hall, so that I failed to catch the most fleeting glance of the front of the house. The instant that I had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us, and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage drove away. "It was pitch dark inside the house, and the colonel fumbled about looking for matches and muttering under his breath. Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage, and a long, golden bar of light shot out in our direction. It grew broader, and a woman appeared with a lamp in her hand, which she held above her head, pushing her face forward and peering at us. I could see that she was pretty, and from the gloss with which the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it was a rich material. She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as though asking a question, and when my companion answered in a gruff monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly fell from her hand. Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered something in her ear, and then, pushing her back into the room from whence she had come, he walked towards me again with the lamp in his hand. "'Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a few minutes,' said he, throwing open another door. It was a quiet, little, plainly furnished room, with a round table in the centre, on which several German books were scattered. Colonel Stark laid down the lamp on the top of a harmonium beside the door. 'I shall not keep you waiting an instant,' said he, and vanished into the darkness. "I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my ignorance of German I could see that two of them were treatises on science, the others being volumes of poetry. Then I walked across to the window, hoping that I might catch some glimpse of the country-side, but an oak shutter, heavily barred, was folded across it. It was a wonderfully silent house. There was an old clock ticking loudly somewhere in the passage, but otherwise everything was deadly still. A vague feeling of uneasiness began to steal over me. Who were these German people, and what were they doing living in this strange, out-of-the-way place? And where was the place? I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was all I knew, but whether north, south, east, or west I had no idea. For that matter, Reading, and possibly other large towns, were within that radius, so the place might not be so secluded, after all. Yet it was quite certain, from the absolute stillness, that we were in the country. I paced up and down the room, humming a tune under my breath to keep up my spirits and feeling that I was thoroughly earning my fifty-guinea fee. "Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the utter stillness, the door of my room swung slowly open. The woman was standing in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind her, the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and beautiful face. I could see at a glance that she was sick with fear, and the sight sent a chill to my own heart. She held up one shaking finger to warn me to be silent, and she shot a few whispered words of broken English at me, her eyes glancing back, like those of a frightened horse, into the gloom behind her. "'I would go,' said she, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to speak calmly; 'I would go. I should not stay here. There is no good for you to do.' "'But, madam,' said I, 'I have not yet done what I came for. I cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.' "'It is not worth your while to wait,' she went on. 'You can pass through the door; no one hinders.' And then, seeing that I smiled and shook my head, she suddenly threw aside her constraint and made a step forward, with her hands wrung together. 'For the love of Heaven!' she whispered, 'get away from here before it is too late!' "But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to engage in an affair when there is some obstacle in the way. I thought of my fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of the unpleasant night which seemed to be before me. Was it all to go for nothing? Why should I slink away without having carried out my commission, and without the payment which was my due? This woman might, for all I knew, be a monomaniac. With a stout bearing, therefore, though her manner had shaken me more than I cared to confess, I still shook my head and declared my intention of remaining where I was. She was about to renew her entreaties when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several footsteps was heard upon the stairs. She listened for an instant, threw up her hands with a despairing gesture, and vanished as suddenly and as noiselessly as she had come. "The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double chin, who was introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson. "'This is my secretary and manager,' said the colonel. 'By the way, I was under the impression that I left this door shut just now. I fear that you have felt the draught.' "'On the contrary,' said I, 'I opened the door myself because I felt the room to be a little close.' "He shot one of his suspicious looks at me. 'Perhaps we had better proceed to business, then,' said he. 'Mr. Ferguson and I will take you up to see the machine.' "'I had better put my hat on, I suppose.' "'Oh, no, it is in the house.' "'What, you dig fuller's-earth in the house?' "'No, no. This is only where we compress it. But never mind that. All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us know what is wrong with it.' "We went upstairs together, the colonel first with the lamp, the fat manager and I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house, with corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases, and little low doors, the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the generations who had crossed them. There were no carpets and no signs of any furniture above the ground floor, while the plaster was peeling off the walls, and the damp was breaking through in green, unhealthy blotches. I tried to put on as unconcerned an air as possible, but I had not forgotten the warnings of the lady, even though I disregarded them, and I kept a keen eye upon my two companions. Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent man, but I could see from the little that he said that he was at least a fellow-countryman. "Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door, which he unlocked. Within was a small, square room, in which the three of us could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained outside, and the colonel ushered me in. "'We are now,' said he, 'actually within the hydraulic press, and it would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were to turn it on. The ceiling of this small chamber is really the end of the descending piston, and it comes down with the force of many tons upon this metal floor. There are small lateral columns of water outside which receive the force, and which transmit and multiply it in the manner which is familiar to you. The machine goes readily enough, but there is some stiffness in the working of it, and it has lost a little of its force. Perhaps you will have the goodness to look it over and to show us how we can set it right.' "I took the lamp from him, and I examined the machine very thoroughly. It was indeed a gigantic one, and capable of exercising enormous pressure. When I passed outside, however, and pressed down the levers which controlled it, I knew at once by the whishing sound that there was a slight leakage, which allowed a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders. An examination showed that one of the india-rubber bands which was round the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite to fill the socket along which it worked. This was clearly the cause of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my companions, who followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical questions as to how they should proceed to set it right. When I had made it clear to them, I returned to the main chamber of the machine and took a good look at it to satisfy my own curiosity. It was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller's-earth was the merest fabrication, for it would be absurd to suppose that so powerful an engine could be designed for so inadequate a purpose. The walls were of wood, but the floor consisted of a large iron trough, and when I came to examine it I could see a crust of metallic deposit all over it. I had stooped and was scraping at this to see exactly what it was when I heard a muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the colonel looking down at me. "'What are you doing there?' he asked. "I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as that which he had told me. 'I was admiring your fuller's-earth,' said I; 'I think that I should be better able to advise you as to your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was for which it was used.' "The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of my speech. His face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in his grey eyes. "'Very well,' said he, 'you shall know all about the machine.' He took a step backward, slammed the little door, and turned the key in the lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it was quite secure, and did not give in the least to my kicks and shoves. 'Hullo!' I yelled. 'Hullo! Colonel! Let me out!' "And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my heart into my mouth. It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work. The lamp still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining the trough. By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me, slowly, jerkily, but, as none knew better than myself, with a force which must within a minute grind me to a shapeless pulp. I threw myself, screaming, against the door, and dragged with my nails at the lock. I implored the colonel to let me out, but the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head, and with my hand upraised I could feel its hard, rough surface. Then it flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend very much upon the position in which I met it. If I lay on my face the weight would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to think of that dreadful snap. Easier the other way, perhaps; and yet, had I the nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black shadow wavering down upon me? Already I was unable to stand erect, when my eye caught something which brought a gush of hope back to my heart. "I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the walls were of wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards, which broadened and broadened as a small panel was pushed backward. For an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door which led away from death. The next instant I threw myself through, and lay half-fainting upon the other side. The panel had closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp, and a few moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal, told me how narrow had been my escape. "I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and I found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, while a woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand, while she held a candle in her right. It was the same good friend whose warning I had so foolishly rejected. "'Come! come!' she cried breathlessly. 'They will be here in a moment. They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste the so-precious time, but come!' "This time, at least, I did not scorn her advice. I staggered to my feet and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding stair. The latter led to another broad passage, and just as we reached it we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices, one answering the other from the floor on which we were and from the one beneath. My guide stopped and looked about her like one who is at her wit's end. Then she threw open a door which led into a bedroom, through the window of which the moon was shining brightly. "'It is your only chance,' said she. 'It is high, but it may be that you can jump it.' "As she spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the passage, and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark rushing forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a butcher's cleaver in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, flung open the window, and looked out. How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight, and it could not be more than thirty feet down. I clambered out upon the sill, but I hesitated to jump until I should have heard what passed between my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me. If she were ill-used, then at any risks I was determined to go back to her assistance. The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at the door, pushing his way past her; but she threw her arms round him and tried to hold him back. "'Fritz! Fritz!' she cried in English, 'remember your promise after the last time. You said it should not be again. He will be silent! Oh, he will be silent!' "'You are mad, Elise!' he shouted, struggling to break away from her. 'You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me pass, I say!' He dashed her to one side, and, rushing to the window, cut at me with his heavy weapon. I had let myself go, and was hanging by the hands to the sill, when his blow fell. I was conscious of a dull pain, my grip loosened, and I fell into the garden below. "I was shaken but not hurt by the fall; so I picked myself up and rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I understood that I was far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly, however, as I ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me. I glanced down at my hand, which was throbbing painfully, and then, for the first time, saw that my thumb had been cut off and that the blood was pouring from my wound. I endeavoured to tie my handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden buzzing in my ears, and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the rose-bushes. "How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been a very long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was breaking when I came to myself. My clothes were all sodden with dew, and my coat-sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded thumb. The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of my night's adventure, and I sprang to my feet with the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers. But to my astonishment, when I came to look round me, neither house nor garden were to be seen. I had been lying in an angle of the hedge close by the highroad, and just a little lower down was a long building, which proved, upon my approaching it, to be the very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night. Were it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream. "Half dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The same porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I arrived. I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark. The name was strange to him. Had he observed a carriage the night before waiting for me? No, he had not. Was there a police-station anywhere near? There was one about three miles off. "It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the police. It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first to have my wound dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to bring me along here. I put the case into your hands and shall do exactly what you advise." We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to this extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he placed his cuttings. "Here is an advertisement which will interest you," said he. "It appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this: 'Lost, on the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah Hayling, aged twenty-six, a hydraulic engineer. Left his lodgings at ten o'clock at night, and has not been heard of since. Was dressed in,' etc., etc. Ha! That represents the last time that the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I fancy." "Good heavens!" cried my patient. "Then that explains what the girl said." "Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and desperate man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should stand in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well, every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for Eyford." Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train together, bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village. There were Sherlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector Bradstreet, of Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes man, and myself. Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the seat and was busy with his compasses drawing a circle with Eyford for its centre. "There you are," said he. "That circle is drawn at a radius of ten miles from the village. The place we want must be somewhere near that line. You said ten miles, I think, sir." "It was an hour's good drive." "And you think that they brought you back all that way when you were unconscious?" "They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having been lifted and conveyed somewhere." "What I cannot understand," said I, "is why they should have spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden. Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman's entreaties." "I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face in my life." "Oh, we shall soon clear up all that," said Bradstreet. "Well, I have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon it the folk that we are in search of are to be found." "I think I could lay my finger on it," said Holmes quietly. "Really, now!" cried the inspector, "you have formed your opinion! Come, now, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is south, for the country is more deserted there." "And I say east," said my patient. "I am for west," remarked the plain-clothes man. "There are several quiet little villages up there." "And I am for north," said I, "because there are no hills there, and our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up any." "Come," cried the inspector, laughing; "it's a very pretty diversity of opinion. We have boxed the compass among us. Who do you give your casting vote to?" "You are all wrong." "But we can't all be." "Oh, yes, you can. This is my point." He placed his finger in the centre of the circle. "This is where we shall find them." "But the twelve-mile drive?" gasped Hatherley. "Six out and six back. Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the horse was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could it be that if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?" "Indeed, it is a likely ruse enough," observed Bradstreet thoughtfully. "Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature of this gang." "None at all," said Holmes. "They are coiners on a large scale, and have used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the place of silver." "We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work," said the inspector. "They have been turning out half-crowns by the thousand. We even traced them as far as Reading, but could get no farther, for they had covered their traces in a way that showed that they were very old hands. But now, thanks to this lucky chance, I think that we have got them right enough." But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not destined to fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood and hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape. "A house on fire?" asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on its way. "Yes, sir!" said the station-master. "When did it break out?" "I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse, and the whole place is in a blaze." "Whose house is it?" "Dr. Becher's." "Tell me," broke in the engineer, "is Dr. Becher a German, very thin, with a long, sharp nose?" The station-master laughed heartily. "No, sir, Dr. Becher is an Englishman, and there isn't a man in the parish who has a better-lined waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with him, a patient, as I understand, who is a foreigner, and he looks as if a little good Berkshire beef would do him no harm." The station-master had not finished his speech before we were all hastening in the direction of the fire. The road topped a low hill, and there was a great widespread whitewashed building in front of us, spouting fire at every chink and window, while in the garden in front three fire-engines were vainly striving to keep the flames under. "That's it!" cried Hatherley, in intense excitement. "There is the gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes where I lay. That second window is the one that I jumped from." "Well, at least," said Holmes, "you have had your revenge upon them. There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which, when it was crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls, though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you to observe it at the time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for your friends of last night, though I very much fear that they are a good hundred miles off by now." And Holmes' fears came to be realised, for from that day to this no word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, the sinister German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning a peasant had met a cart containing several people and some very bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading, but there all traces of the fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes' ingenuity failed ever to discover the least clue as to their whereabouts. The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements which they had found within, and still more so by discovering a newly severed human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor. About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, and they subdued the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, and the whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin that, save some twisted cylinders and iron piping, not a trace remained of the machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so dearly. Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored in an out-house, but no coins were to be found, which may have explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have been already referred to. How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to the spot where he recovered his senses might have remained forever a mystery were it not for the soft mould, which told us a very plain tale. He had evidently been carried down by two persons, one of whom had remarkably small feet and the other unusually large ones. On the whole, it was most probable that the silent Englishman, being less bold or less murderous than his companion, had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man out of the way of danger. "Well," said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return once more to London, "it has been a pretty business for me! I have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and what have I gained?" "Experience," said Holmes, laughing. "Indirectly it may be of value, you know; you have only to put it into words to gain the reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your existence." X. THE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELOR The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have long ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reason to believe, however, that the full facts have never been revealed to the general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that no memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of this remarkable episode. It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for him. I had remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, and the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend's noble correspondent could be. "Here is a very fashionable epistle," I remarked as he entered. "Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a tide-waiter." "Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety," he answered, smiling, "and the humbler are usually the more interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie." He broke the seal and glanced over the contents. "Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all." "Not social, then?" "No, distinctly professional." "And from a noble client?" "One of the highest in England." "My dear fellow, I congratulate you." "I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his case. It is just possible, however, that that also may not be wanting in this new investigation. You have been reading the papers diligently of late, have you not?" "It looks like it," said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in the corner. "I have had nothing else to do." "It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. The latter is always instructive. But if you have followed recent events so closely you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his wedding?" "Oh, yes, with the deepest interest." "That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord St. Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter. This is what he says: "'MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:--Lord Backwater tells me that I may place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion. I have determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult you in reference to the very painful event which has occurred in connection with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is acting already in the matter, but he assures me that he sees no objection to your co-operation, and that he even thinks that it might be of some assistance. I will call at four o'clock in the afternoon, and, should you have any other engagement at that time, I hope that you will postpone it, as this matter is of paramount importance. Yours faithfully, ST. SIMON.' "It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen, and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink upon the outer side of his right little finger," remarked Holmes as he folded up the epistle. "He says four o'clock. It is three now. He will be here in an hour." "Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon the subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their order of time, while I take a glance as to who our client is." He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of reference beside the mantelpiece. "Here he is," said he, sitting down and flattening it out upon his knee. "'Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral.' Hum! 'Arms: Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.' He's forty-one years of age, which is mature for marriage. Was Under-Secretary for the colonies in a late administration. The Duke, his father, was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs. They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and Tudor on the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very instructive in all this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for something more solid." "I have very little difficulty in finding what I want," said I, "for the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as remarkable. I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the intrusion of other matters." "Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square furniture van. That is quite cleared up now--though, indeed, it was obvious from the first. Pray give me the results of your newspaper selections." "Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal column of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some weeks back: 'A marriage has been arranged,' it says, 'and will, if rumour is correct, very shortly take place, between Lord Robert St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty Doran, the only daughter of Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.' That is all." "Terse and to the point," remarked Holmes, stretching his long, thin legs towards the fire. "There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers of the same week. Ah, here it is: 'There will soon be a call for protection in the marriage market, for the present free-trade principle appears to tell heavily against our home product. One by one the management of the noble houses of Great Britain is passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic. An important addition has been made during the last week to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself for over twenty years proof against the little god's arrows, has now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at the Westbury House festivities, is an only child, and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to considerably over the six figures, with expectancies for the future. As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years, and as Lord St. Simon has no property of his own save the small estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the Californian heiress is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a British peeress.'" "Anything else?" asked Holmes, yawning. "Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the Morning Post to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it would be at St. George's, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran. Two days later--that is, on Wednesday last--there is a curt announcement that the wedding had taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord Backwater's place, near Petersfield. Those are all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of the bride." "Before the what?" asked Holmes with a start. "The vanishing of the lady." "When did she vanish, then?" "At the wedding breakfast." "Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite dramatic, in fact." "Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common." "They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during the honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt as this. Pray let me have the details." "I warn you that they are very incomplete." "Perhaps we may make them less so." "Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is headed, 'Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding': "'The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which have taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently floating about. In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush the matter up, so much public attention has now been drawn to it that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what is a common subject for conversation. "'The ceremony, which was performed at St. George's, Hanover Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present save the father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon (the younger brother and sister of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused by a woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavoured to force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the house before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some comment, her father followed her, but learned from her maid that she had only come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his mistress, believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with the police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange disappearance of the bride.'" "And is that all?" "Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is a suggestive one." "And it is--" "That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance, has actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole case is in your hands now--so far as it has been set forth in the public press." "And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell, Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, if only as a check to my own memory." "Lord Robert St. Simon," announced our page-boy, throwing open the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an undue impression of age, for he had a slight forward stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he swept off his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and thin upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-coloured gaiters. He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left to right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his golden eyeglasses. "Good-day, Lord St. Simon," said Holmes, rising and bowing. "Pray take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this matter over." "A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you have already managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of society." "No, I am descending." "I beg pardon." "My last client of the sort was a king." "Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?" "The King of Scandinavia." "What! Had he lost his wife?" "You can understand," said Holmes suavely, "that I extend to the affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to you in yours." "Of course! Very right! very right! I'm sure I beg pardon. As to my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may assist you in forming an opinion." "Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct--this article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride." Lord St. Simon glanced over it. "Yes, it is correct, as far as it goes." "But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most directly by questioning you." "Pray do so." "When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?" "In San Francisco, a year ago." "You were travelling in the States?" "Yes." "Did you become engaged then?" "No." "But you were on a friendly footing?" "I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was amused." "Her father is very rich?" "He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope." "And how did he make his money?" "In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold, invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds." "Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady's--your wife's character?" The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down into the fire. "You see, Mr. Holmes," said he, "my wife was twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather than from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a tomboy, with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any sort of traditions. She is impetuous--volcanic, I was about to say. She is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the name which I have the honour to bear"--he gave a little stately cough--"had not I thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that anything dishonourable would be repugnant to her." "Have you her photograph?" "I brought this with me." He opened a locket and showed us the full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon. "The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your acquaintance?" "Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now married her." "She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?" "A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family." "And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a fait accompli?" "I really have made no inquiries on the subject." "Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the wedding?" "Yes." "Was she in good spirits?" "Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our future lives." "Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the wedding?" "She was as bright as possible--at least until after the ceremony." "And did you observe any change in her then?" "Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible bearing upon the case." "Pray let us have it, for all that." "Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it fell over into the pew. There was a moment's delay, but the gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause." "Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of the general public were present, then?" "Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is open." "This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends?" "No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point." "Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do on re-entering her father's house?" "I saw her in conversation with her maid." "And who is her maid?" "Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California with her." "A confidential servant?" "A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they look upon these things in a different way." "How long did she speak to this Alice?" "Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of." "You did not overhear what they said?" "Lady St. Simon said something about 'jumping a claim.' She was accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she meant." "American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?" "She walked into the breakfast-room." "On your arm?" "No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that. Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She never came back." "But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to her room, covered her bride's dress with a long ulster, put on a bonnet, and went out." "Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran's house that morning." "Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, and your relations to her." Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. "We have been on a friendly footing for some years--I may say on a very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of complaint against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell the truth, the reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She came to Mr. Doran's door just after we returned, and she endeavoured to push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions towards my wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again. She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a row." "Did your wife hear all this?" "No, thank goodness, she did not." "And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?" "Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid some terrible trap for her." "Well, it is a possible supposition." "You think so, too?" "I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon this as likely?" "I do not think Flora would hurt a fly." "Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray what is your own theory as to what took place?" "Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous disturbance in my wife." "In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?" "Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back--I will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to without success--I can hardly explain it in any other fashion." "Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis," said Holmes, smiling. "And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?" "We could see the other side of the road and the Park." "Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer. I shall communicate with you." "Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem," said our client, rising. "I have solved it." "Eh? What was that?" "I say that I have solved it." "Where, then, is my wife?" "That is a detail which I shall speedily supply." Lord St. Simon shook his head. "I am afraid that it will take wiser heads than yours or mine," he remarked, and bowing in a stately, old-fashioned manner he departed. "It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by putting it on a level with his own," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "I think that I shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all this cross-questioning. I had formed my conclusions as to the case before our client came into the room." "My dear Holmes!" "I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I remarked before, which were quite as prompt. My whole examination served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a trout in the milk, to quote Thoreau's example." "But I have heard all that you have heard." "Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which serves me so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some years back, and something on very much the same lines at Munich the year after the Franco-Prussian War. It is one of these cases--but, hullo, here is Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade! You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and there are cigars in the box." The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a black canvas bag in his hand. With a short greeting he seated himself and lit the cigar which had been offered to him. "What's up, then?" asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. "You look dissatisfied." "And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage case. I can make neither head nor tail of the business." "Really! You surprise me." "Who ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to slip through my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day." "And very wet it seems to have made you," said Holmes laying his hand upon the arm of the pea-jacket. "Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine." "In heaven's name, what for?" "In search of the body of Lady St. Simon." Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily. "Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?" he asked. "Why? What do you mean?" "Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in the one as in the other." Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. "I suppose you know all about it," he snarled. "Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up." "Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in the matter?" "I think it very unlikely." "Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found this in it?" He opened his bag as he spoke, and tumbled onto the floor a wedding-dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin shoes and a bride's wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked in water. "There," said he, putting a new wedding-ring upon the top of the pile. "There is a little nut for you to crack, Master Holmes." "Oh, indeed!" said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. "You dragged them from the Serpentine?" "No. They were found floating near the margin by a park-keeper. They have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me that if the clothes were there the body would not be far off." "By the same brilliant reasoning, every man's body is to be found in the neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did you hope to arrive at through this?" "At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance." "I am afraid that you will find it difficult." "Are you, indeed, now?" cried Lestrade with some bitterness. "I am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions and your inferences. You have made two blunders in as many minutes. This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar." "And how?" "In the dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card-case. In the card-case is a note. And here is the very note." He slapped it down upon the table in front of him. "Listen to this: 'You will see me when all is ready. Come at once. F.H.M.' Now my theory all along has been that Lady St. Simon was decoyed away by Flora Millar, and that she, with confederates, no doubt, was responsible for her disappearance. Here, signed with her initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly slipped into her hand at the door and which lured her within their reach." "Very good, Lestrade," said Holmes, laughing. "You really are very fine indeed. Let me see it." He took up the paper in a listless way, but his attention instantly became riveted, and he gave a little cry of satisfaction. "This is indeed important," said he. "Ha! you find it so?" "Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly." Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. "Why," he shrieked, "you're looking at the wrong side!" "On the contrary, this is the right side." "The right side? You're mad! Here is the note written in pencil over here." "And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel bill, which interests me deeply." "There's nothing in it. I looked at it before," said Lestrade. "'Oct. 4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s. 6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s. 6d., glass sherry, 8d.' I see nothing in that." "Very likely not. It is most important, all the same. As to the note, it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I congratulate you again." "I've wasted time enough," said Lestrade, rising. "I believe in hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories. Good-day, Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom of the matter first." He gathered up the garments, thrust them into the bag, and made for the door. "Just one hint to you, Lestrade," drawled Holmes before his rival vanished; "I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any such person." Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, tapped his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and hurried away. He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on his overcoat. "There is something in what the fellow says about outdoor work," he remarked, "so I think, Watson, that I must leave you to your papers for a little." It was after five o'clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I had no time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a confectioner's man with a very large flat box. This he unpacked with the help of a youth whom he had brought with him, and presently, to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean little cold supper began to be laid out upon our humble lodging-house mahogany. There were a couple of brace of cold woodcock, a pheasant, a pâté de foie gras pie with a group of ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries, my two visitors vanished away, like the genii of the Arabian Nights, with no explanation save that the things had been paid for and were ordered to this address. Just before nine o'clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the room. His features were gravely set, but there was a light in his eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his conclusions. "They have laid the supper, then," he said, rubbing his hands. "You seem to expect company. They have laid for five." "Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in," said he. "I am surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived. Ha! I fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs." It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features. "My messenger reached you, then?" asked Holmes. "Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure. Have you good authority for what you say?" "The best possible." Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his forehead. "What will the Duke say," he murmured, "when he hears that one of the family has been subjected to such humiliation?" "It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any humiliation." "Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint." "I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she had no one to advise her at such a crisis." "It was a slight, sir, a public slight," said Lord St. Simon, tapping his fingers upon the table. "You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so unprecedented a position." "I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have been shamefully used." "I think that I heard a ring," said Holmes. "Yes, there are steps on the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view of the matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here who may be more successful." He opened the door and ushered in a lady and gentleman. "Lord St. Simon," said he "allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hay Moulton. The lady, I think, you have already met." At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his seat and stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand thrust into the breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended dignity. The lady had taken a quick step forward and had held out her hand to him, but he still refused to raise his eyes. It was as well for his resolution, perhaps, for her pleading face was one which it was hard to resist. "You're angry, Robert," said she. "Well, I guess you have every cause to be." "Pray make no apology to me," said Lord St. Simon bitterly. "Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I should have spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of rattled, and from the time when I saw Frank here again I just didn't know what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I didn't fall down and do a faint right there before the altar." "Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the room while you explain this matter?" "If I may give an opinion," remarked the strange gentleman, "we've had just a little too much secrecy over this business already. For my part, I should like all Europe and America to hear the rights of it." He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man, clean-shaven, with a sharp face and alert manner. "Then I'll tell our story right away," said the lady. "Frank here and I met in '84, in McQuire's camp, near the Rockies, where pa was working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I; but then one day father struck a rich pocket and made a pile, while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out and came to nothing. The richer pa grew the poorer was Frank; so at last pa wouldn't hear of our engagement lasting any longer, and he took me away to 'Frisco. Frank wouldn't throw up his hand, though; so he followed me there, and he saw me without pa knowing anything about it. It would only have made him mad to know, so we just fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that he would go and make his pile, too, and never come back to claim me until he had as much as pa. So then I promised to wait for him to the end of time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he lived. 'Why shouldn't we be married right away, then,' said he, 'and then I will feel sure of you; and I won't claim to be your husband until I come back?' Well, we talked it over, and he had fixed it all up so nicely, with a clergyman all ready in waiting, that we just did it right there; and then Frank went off to seek his fortune, and I went back to pa. "The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and then he went prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him from New Mexico. After that came a long newspaper story about how a miners' camp had been attacked by Apache Indians, and there was my Frank's name among the killed. I fainted dead away, and I was very sick for months after. Pa thought I had a decline and took me to half the doctors in 'Frisco. Not a word of news came for a year and more, so that I never doubted that Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to 'Frisco, and we came to London, and a marriage was arranged, and pa was very pleased, but I felt all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place in my heart that had been given to my poor Frank. "Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I'd have done my duty by him. We can't command our love, but we can our actions. I went to the altar with him with the intention to make him just as good a wife as it was in me to be. But you may imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first; but when I looked again there he was still, with a kind of question in his eyes, as if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I wonder I didn't drop. I know that everything was turning round, and the words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my ear. I didn't know what to do. Should I stop the service and make a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he seemed to know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to his lips to tell me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, and I knew that he was writing me a note. As I passed his pew on the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him, and he slipped the note into my hand when he returned me the flowers. It was only a line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so. Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now to him, and I determined to do just whatever he might direct. "When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in California, and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but to get a few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before his mother and all those great people. I just made up my mind to run away and explain afterwards. I hadn't been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frank out of the window at the other side of the road. He beckoned to me and then began walking into the Park. I slipped out, put on my things, and followed him. Some woman came talking something or other about Lord St. Simon to me--seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little secret of his own before marriage also--but I managed to get away from her and soon overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and that was my true wedding after all those years of waiting. Frank had been a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to 'Frisco, found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to England, followed me there, and had come upon me at last on the very morning of my second wedding." "I saw it in a paper," explained the American. "It gave the name and the church but not where the lady lived." "Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all for openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I should like to vanish away and never see any of them again--just sending a line to pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting round that breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back. So Frank took my wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of them, so that I should not be traced, and dropped them away somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that this good gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though how he found us is more than I can think, and he showed us very clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right, and that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord St. Simon alone, and so we came right away round to his rooms at once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very meanly of me." Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this long narrative. "Excuse me," he said, "but it is not my custom to discuss my most intimate personal affairs in this public manner." "Then you won't forgive me? You won't shake hands before I go?" "Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure." He put out his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him. "I had hoped," suggested Holmes, "that you would have joined us in a friendly supper." "I think that there you ask a little too much," responded his Lordship. "I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent developments, but I can hardly be expected to make merry over them. I think that with your permission I will now wish you all a very good-night." He included us all in a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room. "Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your company," said Sherlock Holmes. "It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believe that the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes." "The case has been an interesting one," remarked Holmes when our visitors had left us, "because it serves to show very clearly how simple the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady, and nothing stranger than the result when viewed, for instance, by Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard." "You were not yourself at fault at all, then?" "From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes of returning home. Obviously something had occurred during the morning, then, to cause her to change her mind. What could that something be? She could not have spoken to anyone when she was out, for she had been in the company of the bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it must be someone from America because she had spent so short a time in this country that she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep an influence over her that the mere sight of him would induce her to change her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by a process of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an American. Then who could this American be, and why should he possess so much influence over her? It might be a lover; it might be a husband. Her young womanhood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and under strange conditions. So far I had got before I ever heard Lord St. Simon's narrative. When he told us of a man in a pew, of the change in the bride's manner, of so transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet, of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her very significant allusion to claim-jumping--which in miners' parlance means taking possession of that which another person has a prior claim to--the whole situation became absolutely clear. She had gone off with a man, and the man was either a lover or was a previous husband--the chances being in favour of the latter." "And how in the world did you find them?" "It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in his hands the value of which he did not himself know. The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, but more valuable still was it to know that within a week he had settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels." "How did you deduce the select?" "By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels. There are not many in London which charge at that rate. In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an American gentleman, had left only the day before, and on looking over the entries against him, I came upon the very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give them some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be better in every way that they should make their position a little clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in particular. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I made him keep the appointment." "But with no very good result," I remarked. "His conduct was certainly not very gracious." "Ah, Watson," said Holmes, smiling, "perhaps you would not be very gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings." XI. THE ADVENTURE OF THE BERYL CORONET "Holmes," said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down the street, "here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone." My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands in the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It was a bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed into a brown crumbly band by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths it still lay as white as when it fell. The grey pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual. Indeed, from the direction of the Metropolitan Station no one was coming save the single gentleman whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention. He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress and features, for he was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs. As he ran he jerked his hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed his face into the most extraordinary contortions. "What on earth can be the matter with him?" I asked. "He is looking up at the numbers of the houses." "I believe that he is coming here," said Holmes, rubbing his hands. "Here?" "Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?" As he spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging. A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and pity. For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room. Sherlock Holmes pushed him down into the easy-chair and, sitting beside him, patted his hand and chatted with him in the easy, soothing tones which he knew so well how to employ. "You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?" said he. "You are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have recovered yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little problem which you may submit to me." The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his brow, set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us. "No doubt you think me mad?" said he. "I see that you have had some great trouble," responded Holmes. "God knows I have!--a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might have faced, although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain. Private affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming together, and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found out of this horrible affair." "Pray compose yourself, sir," said Holmes, "and let me have a clear account of who you are and what it is that has befallen you." "My name," answered our visitor, "is probably familiar to your ears. I am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson, of Threadneedle Street." The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City of London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost citizens of London to this most pitiable pass? We waited, all curiosity, until with another effort he braced himself to tell his story. "I feel that time is of value," said he; "that is why I hastened here when the police inspector suggested that I should secure your co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little exercise. I feel better now, and I will put the facts before you as shortly and yet as clearly as I can. "It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection and the number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means of laying out money is in the shape of loans, where the security is unimpeachable. We have done a good deal in this direction during the last few years, and there are many noble families to whom we have advanced large sums upon the security of their pictures, libraries, or plate. "Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a card was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I saw the name, for it was that of none other than--well, perhaps even to you I had better say no more than that it was a name which is a household word all over the earth--one of the highest, noblest, most exalted names in England. I was overwhelmed by the honour and attempted, when he entered, to say so, but he plunged at once into business with the air of a man who wishes to hurry quickly through a disagreeable task. "'Mr. Holder,' said he, 'I have been informed that you are in the habit of advancing money.' "'The firm does so when the security is good.' I answered. "'It is absolutely essential to me,' said he, 'that I should have 50,000 pounds at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a sum ten times over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it a matter of business and to carry out that business myself. In my position you can readily understand that it is unwise to place one's self under obligations.' "'For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?' I asked. "'Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you think it right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the money should be paid at once.' "'I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my own private purse,' said I, 'were it not that the strain would be rather more than it could bear. If, on the other hand, I am to do it in the name of the firm, then in justice to my partner I must insist that, even in your case, every businesslike precaution should be taken.' "'I should much prefer to have it so,' said he, raising up a square, black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair. 'You have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?' "'One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,' said I. "'Precisely.' He opened the case, and there, imbedded in soft, flesh-coloured velvet, lay the magnificent piece of jewellery which he had named. 'There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,' said he, 'and the price of the gold chasing is incalculable. The lowest estimate would put the worth of the coronet at double the sum which I have asked. I am prepared to leave it with you as my security.' "I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some perplexity from it to my illustrious client. "'You doubt its value?' he asked. "'Not at all. I only doubt--' "'The propriety of my leaving it. You may set your mind at rest about that. I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely certain that I should be able in four days to reclaim it. It is a pure matter of form. Is the security sufficient?' "'Ample.' "'You understand, Mr. Holder, that I am giving you a strong proof of the confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that I have heard of you. I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to refrain from all gossip upon the matter but, above all, to preserve this coronet with every possible precaution because I need not say that a great public scandal would be caused if any harm were to befall it. Any injury to it would be almost as serious as its complete loss, for there are no beryls in the world to match these, and it would be impossible to replace them. I leave it with you, however, with every confidence, and I shall call for it in person on Monday morning.' "Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I said no more but, calling for my cashier, I ordered him to pay over fifty 1000 pound notes. When I was alone once more, however, with the precious case lying upon the table in front of me, I could not but think with some misgivings of the immense responsibility which it entailed upon me. There could be no doubt that, as it was a national possession, a horrible scandal would ensue if any misfortune should occur to it. I already regretted having ever consented to take charge of it. However, it was too late to alter the matter now, so I locked it up in my private safe and turned once more to my work. "When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave so precious a thing in the office behind me. Bankers' safes had been forced before now, and why should not mine be? If so, how terrible would be the position in which I should find myself! I determined, therefore, that for the next few days I would always carry the case backward and forward with me, so that it might never be really out of my reach. With this intention, I called a cab and drove out to my house at Streatham, carrying the jewel with me. I did not breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs and locked it in the bureau of my dressing-room. "And now a word as to my household, Mr. Holmes, for I wish you to thoroughly understand the situation. My groom and my page sleep out of the house, and may be set aside altogether. I have three maid-servants who have been with me a number of years and whose absolute reliability is quite above suspicion. Another, Lucy Parr, the second waiting-maid, has only been in my service a few months. She came with an excellent character, however, and has always given me satisfaction. She is a very pretty girl and has attracted admirers who have occasionally hung about the place. That is the only drawback which we have found to her, but we believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way. "So much for the servants. My family itself is so small that it will not take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have an only son, Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. Holmes--a grievous disappointment. I have no doubt that I am myself to blame. People tell me that I have spoiled him. Very likely I have. When my dear wife died I felt that he was all I had to love. I could not bear to see the smile fade even for a moment from his face. I have never denied him a wish. Perhaps it would have been better for both of us had I been sterner, but I meant it for the best. "It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my business, but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, wayward, and, to speak the truth, I could not trust him in the handling of large sums of money. When he was young he became a member of an aristocratic club, and there, having charming manners, he was soon the intimate of a number of men with long purses and expensive habits. He learned to play heavily at cards and to squander money on the turf, until he had again and again to come to me and implore me to give him an advance upon his allowance, that he might settle his debts of honour. He tried more than once to break away from the dangerous company which he was keeping, but each time the influence of his friend, Sir George Burnwell, was enough to draw him back again. "And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George Burnwell should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently brought him to my house, and I have found myself that I could hardly resist the fascination of his manner. He is older than Arthur, a man of the world to his finger-tips, one who had been everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker, and a man of great personal beauty. Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far away from the glamour of his presence, I am convinced from his cynical speech and the look which I have caught in his eyes that he is one who should be deeply distrusted. So I think, and so, too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman's quick insight into character. "And now there is only she to be described. She is my niece; but when my brother died five years ago and left her alone in the world I adopted her, and have looked upon her ever since as my daughter. She is a sunbeam in my house--sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager and housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and gentle as a woman could be. She is my right hand. I do not know what I could do without her. In only one matter has she ever gone against my wishes. Twice my boy has asked her to marry him, for he loves her devotedly, but each time she has refused him. I think that if anyone could have drawn him into the right path it would have been she, and that his marriage might have changed his whole life; but now, alas! it is too late--forever too late! "Now, Mr. Holmes, you know the people who live under my roof, and I shall continue with my miserable story. "When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after dinner, I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious treasure which we had under our roof, suppressing only the name of my client. Lucy Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am sure, left the room; but I cannot swear that the door was closed. Mary and Arthur were much interested and wished to see the famous coronet, but I thought it better not to disturb it. "'Where have you put it?' asked Arthur. "'In my own bureau.' "'Well, I hope to goodness the house won't be burgled during the night.' said he. "'It is locked up,' I answered. "'Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I was a youngster I have opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.' "He often had a wild way of talking, so that I thought little of what he said. He followed me to my room, however, that night with a very grave face. "'Look here, dad,' said he with his eyes cast down, 'can you let me have 200 pounds?' "'No, I cannot!' I answered sharply. 'I have been far too generous with you in money matters.' "'You have been very kind,' said he, 'but I must have this money, or else I can never show my face inside the club again.' "'And a very good thing, too!' I cried. "'Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured man,' said he. 'I could not bear the disgrace. I must raise the money in some way, and if you will not let me have it, then I must try other means.' "I was very angry, for this was the third demand during the month. 'You shall not have a farthing from me,' I cried, on which he bowed and left the room without another word. "When he was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure that my treasure was safe, and locked it again. Then I started to go round the house to see that all was secure--a duty which I usually leave to Mary but which I thought it well to perform myself that night. As I came down the stairs I saw Mary herself at the side window of the hall, which she closed and fastened as I approached. "'Tell me, dad,' said she, looking, I thought, a little disturbed, 'did you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out to-night?' "'Certainly not.' "'She came in just now by the back door. I have no doubt that she has only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that it is hardly safe and should be stopped.' "'You must speak to her in the morning, or I will if you prefer it. Are you sure that everything is fastened?' "'Quite sure, dad.' "'Then, good-night.' I kissed her and went up to my bedroom again, where I was soon asleep. "I am endeavouring to tell you everything, Mr. Holmes, which may have any bearing upon the case, but I beg that you will question me upon any point which I do not make clear." "On the contrary, your statement is singularly lucid." "I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be particularly so. I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety in my mind tended, no doubt, to make me even less so than usual. About two in the morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in the house. It had ceased ere I was wide awake, but it had left an impression behind it as though a window had gently closed somewhere. I lay listening with all my ears. Suddenly, to my horror, there was a distinct sound of footsteps moving softly in the next room. I slipped out of bed, all palpitating with fear, and peeped round the corner of my dressing-room door. "'Arthur!' I screamed, 'you villain! you thief! How dare you touch that coronet?' "The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my unhappy boy, dressed only in his shirt and trousers, was standing beside the light, holding the coronet in his hands. He appeared to be wrenching at it, or bending it with all his strength. At my cry he dropped it from his grasp and turned as pale as death. I snatched it up and examined it. One of the gold corners, with three of the beryls in it, was missing. "'You blackguard!' I shouted, beside myself with rage. 'You have destroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the jewels which you have stolen?' "'Stolen!' he cried. "'Yes, thief!' I roared, shaking him by the shoulder. "'There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,' said he. "'There are three missing. And you know where they are. Must I call you a liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to tear off another piece?' "'You have called me names enough,' said he, 'I will not stand it any longer. I shall not say another word about this business, since you have chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in the morning and make my own way in the world.' "'You shall leave it in the hands of the police!' I cried half-mad with grief and rage. 'I shall have this matter probed to the bottom.' "'You shall learn nothing from me,' said he with a passion such as I should not have thought was in his nature. 'If you choose to call the police, let the police find what they can.' "By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my voice in my anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, at the sight of the coronet and of Arthur's face, she read the whole story and, with a scream, fell down senseless on the ground. I sent the house-maid for the police and put the investigation into their hands at once. When the inspector and a constable entered the house, Arthur, who had stood sullenly with his arms folded, asked me whether it was my intention to charge him with theft. I answered that it had ceased to be a private matter, but had become a public one, since the ruined coronet was national property. I was determined that the law should have its way in everything. "'At least,' said he, 'you will not have me arrested at once. It would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the house for five minutes.' "'That you may get away, or perhaps that you may conceal what you have stolen,' said I. And then, realising the dreadful position in which I was placed, I implored him to remember that not only my honour but that of one who was far greater than I was at stake; and that he threatened to raise a scandal which would convulse the nation. He might avert it all if he would but tell me what he had done with the three missing stones. "'You may as well face the matter,' said I; 'you have been caught in the act, and no confession could make your guilt more heinous. If you but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling us where the beryls are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.' "'Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,' he answered, turning away from me with a sneer. I saw that he was too hardened for any words of mine to influence him. There was but one way for it. I called in the inspector and gave him into custody. A search was made at once not only of his person but of his room and of every portion of the house where he could possibly have concealed the gems; but no trace of them could be found, nor would the wretched boy open his mouth for all our persuasions and our threats. This morning he was removed to a cell, and I, after going through all the police formalities, have hurried round to you to implore you to use your skill in unravelling the matter. The police have openly confessed that they can at present make nothing of it. You may go to any expense which you think necessary. I have already offered a reward of 1000 pounds. My God, what shall I do! I have lost my honour, my gems, and my son in one night. Oh, what shall I do!" He put a hand on either side of his head and rocked himself to and fro, droning to himself like a child whose grief has got beyond words. Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with his brows knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire. "Do you receive much company?" he asked. "None save my partner with his family and an occasional friend of Arthur's. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No one else, I think." "Do you go out much in society?" "Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither of us care for it." "That is unusual in a young girl." "She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not so very young. She is four-and-twenty." "This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to her also." "Terrible! She is even more affected than I." "You have neither of you any doubt as to your son's guilt?" "How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet in his hands." "I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was the remainder of the coronet at all injured?" "Yes, it was twisted." "Do you not think, then, that he might have been trying to straighten it?" "God bless you! You are doing what you can for him and for me. But it is too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If his purpose were innocent, why did he not say so?" "Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not invent a lie? His silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are several singular points about the case. What did the police think of the noise which awoke you from your sleep?" "They considered that it might be caused by Arthur's closing his bedroom door." "A likely story! As if a man bent on felony would slam his door so as to wake a household. What did they say, then, of the disappearance of these gems?" "They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture in the hope of finding them." "Have they thought of looking outside the house?" "Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy. The whole garden has already been minutely examined." "Now, my dear sir," said Holmes, "is it not obvious to you now that this matter really strikes very much deeper than either you or the police were at first inclined to think? It appeared to you to be a simple case; to me it seems exceedingly complex. Consider what is involved by your theory. You suppose that your son came down from his bed, went, at great risk, to your dressing-room, opened your bureau, took out your coronet, broke off by main force a small portion of it, went off to some other place, concealed three gems out of the thirty-nine, with such skill that nobody can find them, and then returned with the other thirty-six into the room in which he exposed himself to the greatest danger of being discovered. I ask you now, is such a theory tenable?" "But what other is there?" cried the banker with a gesture of despair. "If his motives were innocent, why does he not explain them?" "It is our task to find that out," replied Holmes; "so now, if you please, Mr. Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, and devote an hour to glancing a little more closely into details." My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition, which I was eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy were deeply stirred by the story to which we had listened. I confess that the guilt of the banker's son appeared to me to be as obvious as it did to his unhappy father, but still I had such faith in Holmes' judgment that I felt that there must be some grounds for hope as long as he was dissatisfied with the accepted explanation. He hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the southern suburb, but sat with his chin upon his breast and his hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in the deepest thought. Our client appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of hope which had been presented to him, and he even broke into a desultory chat with me over his business affairs. A short railway journey and a shorter walk brought us to Fairbank, the modest residence of the great financier. Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing back a little from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a snow-clad lawn, stretched down in front to two large iron gates which closed the entrance. On the right side was a small wooden thicket, which led into a narrow path between two neat hedges stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and forming the tradesmen's entrance. On the left ran a lane which led to the stables, and was not itself within the grounds at all, being a public, though little used, thoroughfare. Holmes left us standing at the door and walked slowly all round the house, across the front, down the tradesmen's path, and so round by the garden behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder and I went into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should return. We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and a young lady came in. She was rather above the middle height, slim, with dark hair and eyes, which seemed the darker against the absolute pallor of her skin. I do not think that I have ever seen such deadly paleness in a woman's face. Her lips, too, were bloodless, but her eyes were flushed with crying. As she swept silently into the room she impressed me with a greater sense of grief than the banker had done in the morning, and it was the more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong character, with immense capacity for self-restraint. Disregarding my presence, she went straight to her uncle and passed her hand over his head with a sweet womanly caress. "You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated, have you not, dad?" she asked. "No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to the bottom." "But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know what woman's instincts are. I know that he has done no harm and that you will be sorry for having acted so harshly." "Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?" "Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that you should suspect him." "How could I help suspecting him, when I actually saw him with the coronet in his hand?" "Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it. Oh, do, do take my word for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and say no more. It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in prison!" "I shall never let it drop until the gems are found--never, Mary! Your affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences to me. Far from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleman down from London to inquire more deeply into it." "This gentleman?" she asked, facing round to me. "No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone. He is round in the stable lane now." "The stable lane?" She raised her dark eyebrows. "What can he hope to find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, that you will succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, that my cousin Arthur is innocent of this crime." "I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may prove it," returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the snow from his shoes. "I believe I have the honour of addressing Miss Mary Holder. Might I ask you a question or two?" "Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up." "You heard nothing yourself last night?" "Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly. I heard that, and I came down." "You shut up the windows and doors the night before. Did you fasten all the windows?" "Yes." "Were they all fastened this morning?" "Yes." "You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think that you remarked to your uncle last night that she had been out to see him?" "Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room, and who may have heard uncle's remarks about the coronet." "I see. You infer that she may have gone out to tell her sweetheart, and that the two may have planned the robbery." "But what is the good of all these vague theories," cried the banker impatiently, "when I have told you that I saw Arthur with the coronet in his hands?" "Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to that. About this girl, Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I presume?" "Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I met her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom." "Do you know him?" "Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables round. His name is Francis Prosper." "He stood," said Holmes, "to the left of the door--that is to say, farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?" "Yes, he did." "And he is a man with a wooden leg?" Something like fear sprang up in the young lady's expressive black eyes. "Why, you are like a magician," said she. "How do you know that?" She smiled, but there was no answering smile in Holmes' thin, eager face. "I should be very glad now to go upstairs," said he. "I shall probably wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up." He walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only at the large one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane. This he opened and made a very careful examination of the sill with his powerful magnifying lens. "Now we shall go upstairs," said he at last. The banker's dressing-room was a plainly furnished little chamber, with a grey carpet, a large bureau, and a long mirror. Holmes went to the bureau first and looked hard at the lock. "Which key was used to open it?" he asked. "That which my son himself indicated--that of the cupboard of the lumber-room." "Have you it here?" "That is it on the dressing-table." Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau. "It is a noiseless lock," said he. "It is no wonder that it did not wake you. This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We must have a look at it." He opened the case, and taking out the diadem he laid it upon the table. It was a magnificent specimen of the jeweller's art, and the thirty-six stones were the finest that I have ever seen. At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge, where a corner holding three gems had been torn away. "Now, Mr. Holder," said Holmes, "here is the corner which corresponds to that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I beg that you will break it off." The banker recoiled in horror. "I should not dream of trying," said he. "Then I will." Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it, but without result. "I feel it give a little," said he; "but, though I am exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my time to break it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do you think would happen if I did break it, Mr. Holder? There would be a noise like a pistol shot. Do you tell me that all this happened within a few yards of your bed and that you heard nothing of it?" "I do not know what to think. It is all dark to me." "But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What do you think, Miss Holder?" "I confess that I still share my uncle's perplexity." "Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him?" "He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt." "Thank you. We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary luck during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own fault if we do not succeed in clearing the matter up. With your permission, Mr. Holder, I shall now continue my investigations outside." He went alone, at his own request, for he explained that any unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult. For an hour or more he was at work, returning at last with his feet heavy with snow and his features as inscrutable as ever. "I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, Mr. Holder," said he; "I can serve you best by returning to my rooms." "But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?" "I cannot tell." The banker wrung his hands. "I shall never see them again!" he cried. "And my son? You give me hopes?" "My opinion is in no way altered." "Then, for God's sake, what was this dark business which was acted in my house last night?" "If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow morning between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to make it clearer. I understand that you give me carte blanche to act for you, provided only that I get back the gems, and that you place no limit on the sum I may draw." "I would give my fortune to have them back." "Very good. I shall look into the matter between this and then. Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here again before evening." It was obvious to me that my companion's mind was now made up about the case, although what his conclusions were was more than I could even dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward journey I endeavoured to sound him upon the point, but he always glided away to some other topic, until at last I gave it over in despair. It was not yet three when we found ourselves in our rooms once more. He hurried to his chamber and was down again in a few minutes dressed as a common loafer. With his collar turned up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red cravat, and his worn boots, he was a perfect sample of the class. "I think that this should do," said he, glancing into the glass above the fireplace. "I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I fear that it won't do. I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few hours." He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard, sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition. I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in excellent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his hand. He chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a cup of tea. "I only looked in as I passed," said he. "I am going right on." "Where to?" "Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time before I get back. Don't wait up for me in case I should be late." "How are you getting on?" "Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to Streatham since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is a very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a good deal. However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly respectable self." I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled, and there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks. He hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of the hall door, which told me that he was off once more upon his congenial hunt. I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that his lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he came in, but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other, as fresh and trim as possible. "You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson," said he, "but you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this morning." "Why, it is after nine now," I answered. "I should not be surprised if that were he. I thought I heard a ring." It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter. He entered with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than his violence of the morning before, and he dropped heavily into the armchair which I pushed forward for him. "I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried," said he. "Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted me." "Deserted you?" "Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room was empty, and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had married my boy all might have been well with him. Perhaps it was thoughtless of me to say so. It is to that remark that she refers in this note: "'MY DEAREST UNCLE:--I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me. In life or in death, I am ever your loving,--MARY.' "What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes? Do you think it points to suicide?" "No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible solution. I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of your troubles." "Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr. Holmes; you have learned something! Where are the gems?" "You would not think 1000 pounds apiece an excessive sum for them?" "I would pay ten." "That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. And there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book? Here is a pen. Better make it out for 4000 pounds." With a dazed face the banker made out the required check. Holmes walked over to his desk, took out a little triangular piece of gold with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table. With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up. "You have it!" he gasped. "I am saved! I am saved!" The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been, and he hugged his recovered gems to his bosom. "There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder," said Sherlock Holmes rather sternly. "Owe!" He caught up a pen. "Name the sum, and I will pay it." "No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one." "Then it was not Arthur who took them?" "I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not." "You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know that the truth is known." "He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an interview with him, and finding that he would not tell me the story, I told it to him, on which he had to confess that I was right and to add the very few details which were not yet quite clear to me. Your news of this morning, however, may open his lips." "For heaven's sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary mystery!" "I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached it. And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together." "My Mary? Impossible!" "It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England--a ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what he said, but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing him nearly every evening." "I cannot, and I will not, believe it!" cried the banker with an ashen face. "I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. Your niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room, slipped down and talked to her lover through the window which leads into the stable lane. His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he stood there. She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and he bent her to his will. I have no doubt that she loved you, but there are women in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all other loves, and I think that she must have been one. She had hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you about one of the servants' escapade with her wooden-legged lover, which was all perfectly true. "Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but he slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. In the middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, so he rose and, looking out, was surprised to see his cousin walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared into your dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment, the lad slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what would come of this strange affair. Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious coronet in her hands. She passed down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran along and slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to her room, passing quite close to where he stood hid behind the curtain. "As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the instant that she was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune this would be for you, and how all-important it was to set it right. He rushed down, just as he was, in his bare feet, opened the window, sprang out into the snow, and ran down the lane, where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. Sir George Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur caught him, and there was a struggle between them, your lad tugging at one side of the coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the scuffle, your son struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet in his hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your room, and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in the struggle and was endeavouring to straighten it when you appeared upon the scene." "Is it possible?" gasped the banker. "You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when he felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved her secret." "And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the coronet," cried Mr. Holder. "Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have been! And his asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! The dear fellow wanted to see if the missing piece were at the scene of the struggle. How cruelly I have misjudged him!" "When I arrived at the house," continued Holmes, "I at once went very carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in the snow which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since the evening before, and also that there had been a strong frost to preserve impressions. I passed along the tradesmen's path, but found it all trampled down and indistinguishable. Just beyond it, however, at the far side of the kitchen door, a woman had stood and talked with a man, whose round impressions on one side showed that he had a wooden leg. I could even tell that they had been disturbed, for the woman had run back swiftly to the door, as was shown by the deep toe and light heel marks, while Wooden-leg had waited a little, and then had gone away. I thought at the time that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of whom you had already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I passed round the garden without seeing anything more than random tracks, which I took to be the police; but when I got into the stable lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in front of me. "There was a double line of tracks of a booted man, and a second double line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with naked feet. I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the latter was your son. The first had walked both ways, but the other had run swiftly, and as his tread was marked in places over the depression of the boot, it was obvious that he had passed after the other. I followed them up and found they led to the hall window, where Boots had worn all the snow away while waiting. Then I walked to the other end, which was a hundred yards or more down the lane. I saw where Boots had faced round, where the snow was cut up as though there had been a struggle, and, finally, where a few drops of blood had fallen, to show me that I was not mistaken. Boots had then run down the lane, and another little smudge of blood showed that it was he who had been hurt. When he came to the highroad at the other end, I found that the pavement had been cleared, so there was an end to that clue. "On entering the house, however, I examined, as you remember, the sill and framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could at once see that someone had passed out. I could distinguish the outline of an instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming in. I was then beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what had occurred. A man had waited outside the window; someone had brought the gems; the deed had been overseen by your son; he had pursued the thief; had struggled with him; they had each tugged at the coronet, their united strength causing injuries which neither alone could have effected. He had returned with the prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp of his opponent. So far I was clear. The question now was, who was the man and who was it brought him the coronet? "It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Now, I knew that it was not you who had brought it down, so there only remained your niece and the maids. But if it were the maids, why should your son allow himself to be accused in their place? There could be no possible reason. As he loved his cousin, however, there was an excellent explanation why he should retain her secret--the more so as the secret was a disgraceful one. When I remembered that you had seen her at that window, and how she had fainted on seeing the coronet again, my conjecture became a certainty. "And who could it be who was her confederate? A lover evidently, for who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she must feel to you? I knew that you went out little, and that your circle of friends was a very limited one. But among them was Sir George Burnwell. I had heard of him before as being a man of evil reputation among women. It must have been he who wore those boots and retained the missing gems. Even though he knew that Arthur had discovered him, he might still flatter himself that he was safe, for the lad could not say a word without compromising his own family. "Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures I took next. I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George's house, managed to pick up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that his master had cut his head the night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, made all sure by buying a pair of his cast-off shoes. With these I journeyed down to Streatham and saw that they exactly fitted the tracks." "I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening," said Mr. Holder. "Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man, so I came home and changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to play then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in the matter. I went and saw him. At first, of course, he denied everything. But when I gave him every particular that had occurred, he tried to bluster and took down a life-preserver from the wall. I knew my man, however, and I clapped a pistol to his head before he could strike. Then he became a little more reasonable. I told him that we would give him a price for the stones he held--1000 pounds apiece. That brought out the first signs of grief that he had shown. 'Why, dash it all!' said he, 'I've let them go at six hundred for the three!' I soon managed to get the address of the receiver who had them, on promising him that there would be no prosecution. Off I set to him, and after much chaffering I got our stones at 1000 pounds apiece. Then I looked in upon your son, told him that all was right, and eventually got to my bed about two o'clock, after what I may call a really hard day's work." "A day which has saved England from a great public scandal," said the banker, rising. "Sir, I cannot find words to thank you, but you shall not find me ungrateful for what you have done. Your skill has indeed exceeded all that I have heard of it. And now I must fly to my dear boy to apologise to him for the wrong which I have done him. As to what you tell me of poor Mary, it goes to my very heart. Not even your skill can inform me where she is now." "I think that we may safely say," returned Holmes, "that she is wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than sufficient punishment." XII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES "To the man who loves art for its own sake," remarked Sherlock Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily Telegraph, "it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in these little records of our cases which you have been good enough to draw up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have given prominence not so much to the many causes célèbres and sensational trials in which I have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been trivial in themselves, but which have given room for those faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made my special province." "And yet," said I, smiling, "I cannot quite hold myself absolved from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my records." "You have erred, perhaps," he observed, taking up a glowing cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood--"you have erred perhaps in attempting to put colour and life into each of your statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about the thing." "It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter," I remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend's singular character. "No, it is not selfishness or conceit," said he, answering, as was his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. "If I claim full justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing--a thing beyond myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of tales." It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared yet. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings. "At the same time," he remarked after a pause, during which he had sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, "you can hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases which you have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble bachelor, were all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the trivial." "The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to have been novel and of interest." "Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I have touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy. Read it!" He tossed a crumpled letter across to me. It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran thus: "DEAR MR. HOLMES:--I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you. Yours faithfully, "VIOLET HUNTER." "Do you know the young lady?" I asked. "Not I." "It is half-past ten now." "Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring." "It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so in this case, also." "Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question." As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a plover's egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had her own way to make in the world. "You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," said she, as my companion rose to greet her, "but I have had a very strange experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do." "Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that I can to serve you." I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his finger-tips together, to listen to her story. "I have been a governess for five years," said she, "in the family of Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to America with him, so that I found myself without a situation. I advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success. At last the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was at my wit's end as to what I should do. "There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called Westaway's, and there I used to call about once a week in order to see whether anything had turned up which might suit me. Westaway was the name of the founder of the business, but it is really managed by Miss Stoper. She sits in her own little office, and the ladies who are seeking employment wait in an anteroom, and are then shown in one by one, when she consults her ledgers and sees whether she has anything which would suit them. "Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A prodigiously stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy chin which rolled down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at her elbow with a pair of glasses on his nose, looking very earnestly at the ladies who entered. As I came in he gave quite a jump in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper. "'That will do,' said he; 'I could not ask for anything better. Capital! capital!' He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his hands together in the most genial fashion. He was such a comfortable-looking man that it was quite a pleasure to look at him. "'You are looking for a situation, miss?' he asked. "'Yes, sir.' "'As governess?' "'Yes, sir.' "'And what salary do you ask?' "'I had 4 pounds a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.' "'Oh, tut, tut! sweating--rank sweating!' he cried, throwing his fat hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling passion. 'How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions and accomplishments?' "'My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,' said I. 'A little French, a little German, music, and drawing--' "'Tut, tut!' he cried. 'This is all quite beside the question. The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are not fitted for the rearing of a child who may some day play a considerable part in the history of the country. But if you have why, then, how could any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under the three figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at 100 pounds a year.' "You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, however, seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, opened a pocket-book and took out a note. "'It is also my custom,' said he, smiling in the most pleasant fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the white creases of his face, 'to advance to my young ladies half their salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.' "It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtful a man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the advance was a great convenience, and yet there was something unnatural about the whole transaction which made me wish to know a little more before I quite committed myself. "'May I ask where you live, sir?' said I. "'Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles on the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear young lady, and the dearest old country-house.' "'And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.' "'One child--one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack! smack! Three gone before you could wink!' He leaned back in his chair and laughed his eyes into his head again. "I was a little startled at the nature of the child's amusement, but the father's laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking. "'My sole duties, then,' I asked, 'are to take charge of a single child?' "'No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,' he cried. 'Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey any little commands my wife might give, provided always that they were such commands as a lady might with propriety obey. You see no difficulty, heh?' "'I should be happy to make myself useful.' "'Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you know--faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress which we might give you, you would not object to our little whim. Heh?' "'No,' said I, considerably astonished at his words. "'Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?' "'Oh, no.' "'Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?' "I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, my hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of chestnut. It has been considered artistic. I could not dream of sacrificing it in this offhand fashion. "'I am afraid that that is quite impossible,' said I. He had been watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a shadow pass over his face as I spoke. "'I am afraid that it is quite essential,' said he. 'It is a little fancy of my wife's, and ladies' fancies, you know, madam, ladies' fancies must be consulted. And so you won't cut your hair?' "'No, sir, I really could not,' I answered firmly. "'Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a pity, because in other respects you would really have done very nicely. In that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young ladies.' "The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers without a word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so much annoyance upon her face that I could not help suspecting that she had lost a handsome commission through my refusal. "'Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?' she asked. "'If you please, Miss Stoper.' "'Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most excellent offers in this fashion,' said she sharply. 'You can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for you. Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.' She struck a gong upon the table, and I was shown out by the page. "Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table, I began to ask myself whether I had not done a very foolish thing. After all, if these people had strange fads and expected obedience on the most extraordinary matters, they were at least ready to pay for their eccentricity. Very few governesses in England are getting 100 pounds a year. Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next day I was inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go back to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open when I received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it here and I will read it to you: "'The Copper Beeches, near Winchester. "'DEAR MISS HUNTER:--Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your address, and I write from here to ask you whether you have reconsidered your decision. My wife is very anxious that you should come, for she has been much attracted by my description of you. We are willing to give 30 pounds a quarter, or 120 pounds a year, so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience which our fads may cause you. They are not very exacting, after all. My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. You need not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which would, I should think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting here or there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that need cause you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no doubt a pity, especially as I could not help remarking its beauty during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must remain firm upon this point, and I only hope that the increased salary may recompense you for the loss. Your duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light. Now do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at Winchester. Let me know your train. Yours faithfully, JEPHRO RUCASTLE.' "That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that before taking the final step I should like to submit the whole matter to your consideration." "Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the question," said Holmes, smiling. "But you would not advise me to refuse?" "I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a sister of mine apply for." "What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?" "Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed some opinion?" "Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that he humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?" "That is a possible solution--in fact, as matters stand, it is the most probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice household for a young lady." "But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!" "Well, yes, of course the pay is good--too good. That is what makes me uneasy. Why should they give you 120 pounds a year, when they could have their pick for 40 pounds? There must be some strong reason behind." "I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I felt that you were at the back of me." "Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger--" "Danger! What danger do you foresee?" Holmes shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be a danger if we could define it," said he. "But at any time, day or night, a telegram would bring me down to your help." "That is enough." She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety all swept from her face. "I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start for Winchester to-morrow." With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us both good-night and bustled off upon her way. "At least," said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the stairs, "she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take care of herself." "And she would need to be," said Holmes gravely. "I am much mistaken if we do not hear from her before many days are past." It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled. A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it. "Data! data! data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay." And yet he would always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a situation. The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of those all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast in the morning. He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at the message, threw it across to me. "Just look up the trains in Bradshaw," said he, and turned back to his chemical studies. The summons was a brief and urgent one. "Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow," it said. "Do come! I am at my wit's end. HUNTER." "Will you come with me?" asked Holmes, glancing up. "I should wish to." "Just look it up, then." "There is a train at half-past nine," said I, glancing over my Bradshaw. "It is due at Winchester at 11:30." "That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the morning." By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man's energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage. "Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street. But Holmes shook his head gravely. "Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there." "Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?" "They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside." "You horrify me!" "But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she is not personally threatened." "No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away." "Quite so. She has her freedom." "What CAN be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?" "I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can only be determined by the fresh information which we shall no doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell." The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us. She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the table. "I am so delighted that you have come," she said earnestly. "It is so very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do. Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me." "Pray tell us what has happened to you." "I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle to be back before three. I got his leave to come into town this morning, though he little knew for what purpose." "Let us have everything in its due order." Holmes thrust his long thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen. "In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in my mind about them." "What can you not understand?" "Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as it occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp and bad weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton highroad, which curves past about a hundred yards from the front door. This ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all round are part of Lord Southerton's preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately in front of the hall door has given its name to the place. "I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There was no truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I found her to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much younger than her husband, not more than thirty, I should think, while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with her father's young wife. "Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face. More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has little to do with my story." "I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to you to be relevant or not." "I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife. Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one corner of the building. "For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and whispered something to her husband. "'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you, Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and if you would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely obliged.' "The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed quite exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for me in the drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching along the entire front of the house, with three long windows reaching down to the floor. A chair had been placed close to the central window, with its back turned towards it. In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed until I was quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap, and a sad, anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr. Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in the nursery. "Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of which my employer had an immense répertoire, and which he told inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my dress. "You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little management to see all that there was behind me. I confess that I was disappointed. There was nothing. At least that was my first impression. At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road, a small bearded man in a grey suit, who seemed to be looking in my direction. The road is an important highway, and there are usually people there. This man, however, was leaning against the railings which bordered our field and was looking earnestly up. I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle to find her eyes fixed upon me with a most searching gaze. She said nothing, but I am convinced that she had divined that I had a mirror in my hand and had seen what was behind me. She rose at once. "'Jephro,' said she, 'there is an impertinent fellow upon the road there who stares up at Miss Hunter.' "'No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?' he asked. "'No, I know no one in these parts.' "'Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him to go away.' "'Surely it would be better to take no notice.' "'No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn round and wave him away like that.' "I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man in the road." "Pray continue," said Holmes. "Your narrative promises to be a most interesting one." "You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be little relation between the different incidents of which I speak. On the very first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we approached it I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large animal moving about. "'Look in here!' said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two planks. 'Is he not a beauty?' "I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a vague figure huddled up in the darkness. "'Don't be frightened,' said my employer, laughing at the start which I had given. 'It's only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness' sake don't you ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at night, for it's as much as your life is worth.' "The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look out of my bedroom window about two o'clock in the morning. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper beeches. As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones. It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side. That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not think that any burglar could have done. "And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as you know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by examining the furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things. There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones empty and open, the lower one locked. I had filled the first two with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away I was naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer. It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never guess what it was. It was my coil of hair. "I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, and the same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded itself upon me. How could my hair have been locked in the drawer? With trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the contents, and drew from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two tresses together, and I assure you that they were identical. Was it not extraordinary? Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant. I returned the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to the Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer which they had locked. "I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, and I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A door which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked. One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle coming out through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on his face which made him a very different person to the round, jovial man to whom I was accustomed. His cheeks were red, his brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his temples with passion. He locked the door and hurried past me without a word or a look. "This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I could see the windows of this part of the house. There were four of them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the fourth was shuttered up. They were evidently all deserted. As I strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle came out to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever. "'Ah!' said he, 'you must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.' "I assured him that I was not offended. 'By the way,' said I, 'you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them has the shutters up.' "He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my remark. "'Photography is one of my hobbies,' said he. 'I have made my dark room up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we have come upon. Who would have believed it? Who would have ever believed it?' He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as he looked at me. I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest. "Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was all on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, though I have my share of that. It was more a feeling of duty--a feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to this place. They talk of woman's instinct; perhaps it was woman's instinct which gave me that feeling. At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to pass the forbidden door. "It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do in these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black linen bag with him through the door. Recently he has been drinking hard, and yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when I came upstairs there was the key in the door. I have no doubt at all that he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs, and the child was with them, so that I had an admirable opportunity. I turned the key gently in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through. "There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted, which turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round this corner were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open. They each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in the one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through them. The centre door was closed, and across the outside of it had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring in the wall, and fastened at the other with stout cord. The door itself was locked as well, and the key was not there. This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from beneath it that the room was not in darkness. Evidently there was a skylight which let in light from above. As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little slit of dim light which shone out from under the door. A mad, unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran--ran as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, and straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting outside. "'So,' said he, smiling, 'it was you, then. I thought that it must be when I saw the door open.' "'Oh, I am so frightened!' I panted. "'My dear young lady! my dear young lady!'--you cannot think how caressing and soothing his manner was--'and what has frightened you, my dear young lady?' "But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was keenly on my guard against him. "'I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,' I answered. 'But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!' "'Only that?' said he, looking at me keenly. "'Why, what did you think?' I asked. "'Why do you think that I lock this door?' "'I am sure that I do not know.' "'It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?' He was still smiling in the most amiable manner. "'I am sure if I had known--' "'Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again'--here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon--'I'll throw you to the mastiff.' "I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that I must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I found myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I thought of you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there longer without some advice. I was frightened of the house, of the man, of the woman, of the servants, even of the child. They were all horrible to me. If I could only bring you down all would be well. Of course I might have fled from the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears. My mind was soon made up. I would send you a wire. I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then returned, feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt came into my mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one in the household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who would venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you. I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this morning, but I must be back before three o'clock, for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, and will be away all the evening, so that I must look after the child. Now I have told you all my adventures, Mr. Holmes, and I should be very glad if you could tell me what it all means, and, above all, what I should do." Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. My friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his face. "Is Toller still drunk?" he asked. "Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do nothing with him." "That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?" "Yes." "Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?" "Yes, the wine-cellar." "You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional woman." "I will try. What is it?" "We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o'clock, my friend and I. The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely." "I will do it." "Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course there is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. That is obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some friend of hers--possibly her fiancé--and no doubt, as you wore the girl's dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child." "What on earth has that to do with it?" I ejaculated. "My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don't you see that the converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained my first real insight into the character of parents by studying their children. This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power." "I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes," cried our client. "A thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have hit it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor creature." "We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man. We can do nothing until seven o'clock. At that hour we shall be with you, and it will not be long before we solve the mystery." We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house. The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the house even had Miss Hunter not been standing smiling on the door-step. "Have you managed it?" asked Holmes. A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. "That is Mrs. Toller in the cellar," said she. "Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr. Rucastle's." "You have done well indeed!" cried Holmes with enthusiasm. "Now lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business." We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes' face clouded over. "I trust that we are not too late," said he. "I think, Miss Hunter, that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in." It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone. "There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has guessed Miss Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim off." "But how?" "Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it." He swung himself up onto the roof. "Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it." "But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away." "He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready." The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him. "You villain!" said he, "where's your daughter?" The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight. "It is for me to ask you that," he shrieked, "you thieves! Spies and thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I'll serve you!" He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go. "He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter. "I have my revolver," said I. "Better close the front door," cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door. "My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!" Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck. With much labour we separated them and carried him, living but horribly mangled, into the house. We laid him upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to his wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain. We were all assembled round him when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room. "Mrs. Toller!" cried Miss Hunter. "Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted." "Ha!" said Holmes, looking keenly at her. "It is clear that Mrs. Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else." "Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know." "Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark." "I will soon make it clear to you," said she; "and I'd have done so before now if I could ha' got out from the cellar. If there's police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice's friend too. "She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn't, from the time that her father married again. She was slighted like and had no say in anything, but it never really became bad for her until after she met Mr. Fowler at a friend's house. As well as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was so quiet and patient, she was, that she never said a word about them but just left everything in Mr. Rucastle's hands. He knew he was safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use her money. When she wouldn't do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death's door. Then she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off; but that didn't make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be." "Ah," said Holmes, "I think that what you have been good enough to tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of imprisonment?" "Yes, sir." "And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler." "That was it, sir." "But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his." "Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said Mrs. Toller serenely. "And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your master had gone out." "You have it, sir, just as it happened." "I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller," said Holmes, "for you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our locus standi now is rather a questionable one." And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that he finds it difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, in Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the holder of a government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the License included with tor onlinTwww.g6.net Title:D Author:KQPosting Date: April 18, 2011 [EBook #1661] First Posted: November 29, 2002 Language: English@*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES *** Produced by an anonymouszvolunteerJose MenendezL  by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLEO I. A Scandal in Bohemia II.Red-headed League II9"CaIdentity7V7Boscombe Valley Myster# #Five Orange Pips Vv1Man the Twisted Lip V1 of(Blue Carbuncle V +Speckled BandX*Engineer1umb8-Noble Bachelor Xeryl Coro=/ XCopper Beech:CANDAL IN BOHEMIA I.o she is alwayswoman. I have seldom heard him mention herWany other name. In /y` eclipses and predominateswhole ofRsex. It was not that he felt any emoakin to lovedIrene Adler. All*!s,R that one particularly, wbhorrent to+cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take the most perfect reasoningobserving machinethe world has seen, but as a lover #u#ve placed himself in a false positionnever spokkthe softer pass&Qsave aa gibeqa sneer2y . e things3theer--excellentdrawing the veil froK's motivesnB. Bu:the trained Caer tot such intru3 inown delicatfinely adjuGtemperamenn!toI* a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all<mental results. Grit sensit nstrument, or a crack in onhigh-power lenses,not be more2urbean a strongbnature7as his. And ye}rs2one mE! "waHlate}, of dubiouquestionable memoryQI hada littl^  lately. My marriage.drifted us awayJBeach2own complete happines e home-centred interests rise up aroundman who first findsuamasterestablish5rsufficid absorb4bmy attWu, whiled who loathed every form of society3hisIn soul, rem>in our lodgin Baker Street, buried amongsld book:ralternarom week to between cocai Qd amb,FQdrows drug, agfierce energyQRkeen was still, asq, deeplLBractu 1tudNRcrimenaoccupi:s immense facultiextraordinary power ain folloout those clue7clearing upm #ieq had been abandoned as hopelessoA al police. From time to " I some vague accountOtdoings:qsummonsBOdessa inc | repoff murd8his#  singular trageythe Atkinson br-s at Trincomalee,afinallEih!acished so !lyKsuccessfully AreigBfamiaHolland. Beyoqse sign1hisvity, however,I merely shared1all=Cread/the daily prfI knew1 mmer friendcompanion,One night--iotwentieth of March, 1888--I was returnrom a journey to a patR(for Bnow 5ed to civil pce), when my way led meHugh S. As I passeIwell-remembered dooRDmust be associated io3mingmy wooin<hrk incidentathe Sin Scarlet, c seize?aedesire to ser again:to know how as employi67. His roomsr brilliantly lit\0, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice silhouette st the bl B pac1e swiftly, eage 1ith head sunk upo 3chehis hands clasped behin . To me, who  2mooahabit,krattitud manner tol@ir own story rat work1hadDn oum-created dreamwm 2"ce1some new problem. I ra Q bellhown up to the chambe6 3had"ly!in ! m2. $ effusive. It Awas; h glad, I think,Qme. Wardly a word spokY 9a kindly eye,vormchair, threw acros> %ccigars1indy > Rpirit( gasogeneh3orna n he stood beforeK2fir=me over ir introspecc Dfash?"Wedlock suits you," he rked. "I k, Watson, you have put on snd a half pound"ce you." "Seven!" I answered"Indeed, I sh thought a more. Just a trif, I fancy %in3, I!e.2did not tellaintend! g o harnessQThen,ado you ?I0i[deduce it. H-I+ R getting yourself very wet ,lhave a most clumsR car- servant girlsMy dear[ ," said I, "is too much$_ certainly u burned, had lived a few centuries agois true ^!a ry walk on Thursda came homaqdful m<I changed my clothes I can't imagineWyou As to Mary Jane,incorrigiblewmy wife has givenbnoticefthere,nDfail}it out.0He chucklpand rubb long, nervoub together.xfsimplicity itselfhe; "my eyes ? q insidzy eft shoe, just whelstrikes it,W1leais scored by six parallel cuts. Obviousl _Ccaus>aomeonev2hasly scraped roude edgeA solC1ord@ remove cr2mud it. Hence,see, my double 7!ti.) !ourvile w8 ,ar malignant boot-slispecimen J London slavey , if a gentlemanT!mys smelling of iodoforma black mark of nitrate of silverrforefinga bulge "e&S Qop-haZCshowR qs secre his stethoscope, I be dull, i3if I do not pronounce1to  "e g Pmedical profession1I cnot help laughC eas rexplain Acess1. "When I hear\Bgivets," I egaappearm be so ridiculF! Deasily do it my though at each *ive instancing I am baffled untilSyet I believare as good a"rs"Quite so2!, w cigarett1ing?Bdown D. "Y1butC The distin is clear. For exampl%afreque Bseen Cstep lead uphthe hall  FJHow often?.a"Well, hundredlDtime<? ow many a#reAH?<1n'tnw!" d . That is *my point. Now,$> Bteen)Q, beAboth_By-the-way,k qyou are @   8!ento chronicler two of myz ing experiences. may beDais." Hew over a shee thick, pink-tinted note-pap3 g!ly2pen$able. "It came$last postq. "ReadBloud!ThA undated,twithout ei2sigy or address{There will callqyou to-, at a quarteight o'clock," it said, "a #hobconsul~va mattAveryest moment r recent servicOfroyal hous;bEurope^ "arwho may safeltURwith 6f an imporcJ4canbe exaggerated. ThisSyou w<Sall Zsi(EyourBthenrat hourtdo not amiss ilr visitor wear a mask9"#isB a mT," I $at)  it meansno data yet. a capital mis]]Sorize"1has>A. Ine1blyabeginsuwist fact2suiories, instead}  #ui5t8h 8. . "itI carefully examineU writBthe "  writtenw ho wrote'q presum"wei)do, endeavouro imitateC q's processes. "Such& * Bbe bRunder qa crownX&ckpeculiarand stiffWP#!--i]Dword#. not an Englis at all. Hol!up"heJrI did sosaw a large "E"a small "g," a "P,"#3a *G*st" woveQexturX :3mak#at?" aske sThe nam%e maker, no doubt; or?monogram, ra'e5NotrThe 'G'a't' stfor 'Gesellschaft,'German for 'C94y.' customary conIon like ou3.' 'P,' of c,}Papier.' Nowgthe 'Eg.' Let us g 1 atSContinental Gazetteer2ook a heavy bSvolumhis shelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz--e are, Egriawa-speak &--Q$, 2far Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as beB"ce"eaWallenstein for its numerous glass-fact{"aper-mills.' Ha, hafboy, w+ 2HisCdsparkl+ahe sen` a great blue triumphant clok6his Tqwas madqBohemia3sai4P"Rly. A s1. D5#1 co qence--'/  ' A Frenchman or Russianl aE tha\who is so uncourteou his verbs. It only remains,l fore, to disco"Qis wao 0 #isMBites n4 &Apref!ea>%h Bface1coma1f J4notnresolve all As he spokr harp sounhorses' hoofB grbwheelssbcurb, qaQBpull. Se beG!me CstletA pair,y u Yk!hebinued,#ou e window. "A nic bQ"amrn of beauties. A #fifty guineas apiece!ref$Qney ii`re is notCelse<Ik!be 3go,+g bit, Doctor. Stay !. Alostout my BoswqiAmisef sing. It$abe a pz)!to23 itBr client--Never mind hi1mayBhelpZso may he. H! R. SitUv%atnBrgive usYebest "aA slowDsteph2had{RheardCtaire passage, pGimmediately outsidDuJre was a louauthoritative tapCome in!" said A man ent3whoSzSBless% six feet six inches in h$, gAlimba Hercules. His dressBrich<qa richnhould, in,sand, bei upon asX)bad tast3 of astrakhanslashed 4lee'3fro1his qle-brea.Acoatl'e blue cloakm&M1oulf!uwas lin.flame-coloured silk^1secaDneck,brooch y Qconsiof a single flaming beryl. BootRch ex= halfway upDcalv $+qwere triQ tops!  Efur,&d Bimpr of barbaric opuledas sugge!bySwholeQ1ancB car% broad-bn9h,AwhilWwore upper par,2ing'$pa}qheekbonavizardilhhad apparently )hat veryR, fohtill rai}"aNA%hhe lowqthe fac0e!j#f character, with a hanging liKaAstraLDchinrive of u Bpushxthe leng obstinacE)had my note?t@ deep harsh voicL2a lb)4ked accent. "I told-ICY q lookeTm oneg other of us, as if uncertainIto OQPray da seatM` y'my'% colleague, Dr.> roccasioU&Vgood mBaBWhom Iahonour !x4may! m the Count Von Kramm, aP nG"an. I unders,3F, is} and discretimQtrustT7 most extremSq. If no]b much to communicateQlone.ZbI roseC ," caught me1 Qwristme back intoEhairboth, or none,i Usay 7"JB any y2S to mTbshrugg !"ermust begin he, "by biyou both?rbsolutec' two years; a1 enwqthat ti\'enb'noSA. At i 5not r to sayg"of?/wqQ it 1avenfluences qEuropeaBtory$"I  c"And I)2You+Sexcusfmask,"! our strange. "The august perso w's me wishes 5gc- be unknown(Ayou,oqconfess>2nce1itl+1cal(Syself- exactly my ownI#aw*it S drylThe circumstances)of great delicacyeQpreca%D ha taken to quench0Cgrowmense scandalAseriOr+BreigF*Qamili/" . To speak 1ly,4eimplic3BHous3Orm hereditary kings of BohemiaX6lso]!th-Amurm 1HolqRsettlqmself i Bclos* 4Ourd glanc+*(Q surp30V languid, lou)J !no qt depic qo him  incisive K4 %1/Cetici2. b '3ope3and 3 im,F/ his giganticA#"I%tMajestyondescen, sW|a )heIS4 beOto advis=T6!sp|)2his"Apacelhe room in@antrollc!ag "onm Ta gesrdesperaWhb/!reUBmask ShurlenoYr ground|C ar", cried; " Qthe K4WhyI attemptuconcealWS"Why,?u1had}espoken'pdQing Wilhelm Gottsreich Sigismond vonGrand DukCassel-FelEK G can ?!d, sittf once m !nd Aover)high white forehead, "! |bnot aceRdoingI#bu2Bin B. Ye^1,ot|^1fid!"pupower. IS&come incognito7QPraguapurposf*)"pr3DsultYC, shS.TN tRbrief&se: Some five r ago, d2a y to Warsa_!-the acquain= Qwell- adventuress,&:T&isa Kindly look her up 6 Tindex, out ope@'W#Cmanydopted a syste5Rdocke$ll paragraphs rY1men Rs, so"itdifficulRa subject or a$ o #he!no once furnish inform"B. In .1I fqher bioy sandwiched in betwee` of a Hebrew rabbi staff-comman@Ca&phdeep-sea f !Le Jsee! "Hum! Bor%New Jersey `year 1858. Clto--hum! La Scala,  Prima donna Imperial Opera--yes! RetirEvc stage--ha! LivingLondon--quite so! lI71 be#entangled  Syoung,L2herh% ing letters.w desirou -6/D bac6!2 soJ 4howWr) marriagemNb"No legals or certifc 1 , 2 pA2for1maie #orSs*/ais sh prove their authenticityO$_!Pooh, pooh! Forge My private note-C!6TStole M S sealI drMy photcBought cWe wer& 21Oh,l/1! TAZy bad5 haB#acommitVn inzmad--insa 2You!ed  Faonly CI!PrH'1the@w)#ng!butrty nowEt recoverA"WeQtriedEfailDWpay. QO"i2She0tnot sel,DFive+ sAbeenN. Twice burglarbmy pay ransack"er&. Once we diverterluggage7she travelled`hen waylaidarno resulSaNo sig| Absolutelyla laugh]%Ia pretty("heRBut a4me," ret1  reproachful5Veru R. Andedoes she proposrdo withHZo ruin mm SaboutL#So[-To Clotilde Lot~von Saxe-M}en, second dof Scandinavia. Y*Aknowstrict principl her family. Sh"he3$ssoul of cy. A shadow of a  mo 5ducr_Se matN)Tan enm IThreatens to s"hep sr3.F !at|YA-%2her"shaa soulRsteelh6 fa !moPRautif"Dwome0 i.% qmen. RaqYXmarry anBwoma9r# no length Fgo--ja@Br nt it ye4sur1qBecause\2has n1senT!on~dK betrothalmpublicly'Alaim2hatHbe next Monda!OhBn we9AthregTs yetCaa yawn!at Actunate  one or two, S into just at presenf,/&y  ?Cv!lyOFQ findrLangham8 hi'+ V s/drop you a liU1letow we progressCedo so.Jb#danxiet4oneBarte blanche^I I62youfId$giQprovi.qkingdom^!>p&t expens TVEtook'uchamoisA6#ba! (ai /%1a pound2golUseven!"in&fs," hem&scribbled a receipt_ /!hi1e-band haI:2himAnd Mademoiselle'i?}Rasked+#Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wooe"no$tit. "OnFF  a cabinDt wagood-night,{ S # I2#we.asoon KKAnews2you[<(!dd,L%/<%qrolled !treet. "Ifb0to-morrow afternoon3ree o'clockould likc4his R over A IIAW Vp0Iat Baker Sm1hadE yet } landladyeQd lefB hoRortlye eight qmorning3*ewn be_$Afire /D a intenaof awa.s him, . long he4be.already#!lyKr! inquiry, for, though/asurroubW /1gria'$ wfeatures associat(two crim*# recorded, stilli! n]~.be exalted sta&3hisyA gavas! of its own. Indeed, a"rinvestigbmy friend had on hand!re}AsomeVn masterly grasp of a situXhis keen,Cing,^it a pleaX 1o mHQstudy R work_=quick, subtle method:H7most inextric2])(SoRwas Is invariKrsuccessR possibility off(had ceas?! #bmy heajb closerCfour2door open!ndB runken-looking groom, ill-kempt(side-whiskeredzbflamed [!Arepuib?a, walk!toroom. A#as]'s amazingLJP1useBadisgui:I"topTtimesc }(<$ hCAa no.hvanish2bed"Awhenq emerg%minutes tweed-suitarespec of old. P1hisJ=Qhis p2s, JAetcht#2leg=3(%Cstily foJ,:qreally!1k,t&:ce chokW2aga+Rtil hQoblig lie back, limhQhelplVe chair$it t's quite!ufunny. # D youoever guess: 2I Ted myB, or4I e!." B"up1hatq!tc,Rhabit perhaps%, of MissNuQ3so;@re seque 3 unusual5ill 5. I a littlet (a 1 ouSAwork"ra wonderful sympathC freemasonry among horseyxB9 mdW know allotmqto knowo Xund ". a bijou villa garden Tbut builtin front r5up ad, two stoChubb lock +oor. Large^-MVside, well fur^Clong/qs almostthe flo./ prepost3 6=q fastenx1hich a child+open. BehiGr/rY4A, sa7Apass~07aB4topacoach- \ 2 i`8"it"ly{Cever$> of view without "V&!el ZI^loung SI expected,%Qa mewca lanebruns down by one wall" }!ntostlers a in rubb7"JLvf exchange twopence, a glasSAhalfAhalfa fillshag tobacco|sas much H [desire [Miss Adler, to say1zd dozeneople inF neighbourhood i&m!nothe least!ed whose bir$ie4Acomp\vssten toBa}H?" I@"OhGpqe men'si .aFtdaintiesng under a bonnet is planet2 c(6e Q-mews`Ra manblWbquietl@g qts, dr$bout atA2day85for dinner. SZ&goKQotherY)s, exceptsings. H+uone mal( a good deaahim. HJRdark,BsomeAdash scalls l7 n once aA ofwSXa Mr. Godfrey Norton, Inner Temple. SeK1sadvantaHqa cabmaa confidant. Theyp sn him hom{  rand kneXCWhen e r!to, I began toU2 upInear23mor`2inkc!my of campaign:KThisD was evida0n,?#orO" was a lawyer.saominous. W{R rel "em>w0qe objec his repeated visits? Waf,8 `  his mistress? I formerad prob(?transferre   keeping#e latter, i less likely. OAissux oB dep !whK# Ic,3 myQt# !ord my atIe gentleman'(2mbeTthe SaR+"teit widenfield of myZ. I fearGq I boreD se details, butve to leo !sej@ #qies, ifNa~T 05e ] 8 1ing:closely," I answereM".^ M!inY !innsom cab d D  ;a sprang out'Iqhandsome man,- aquilinQmoust %--z3f"ha dk 3in a great hurry,kt4the q"itbrushed pasR mai7jzA air1 maoaly atO!He tN 5R hourcatch glimpse3him n  , pacing u-Q, taltexcitedcQ2wavs arms. Of"1see hBPres33he 4,Aing dmore flurri:a'fRA&Rstepp+Qpulle\old watchE & G "lot it earnesSa'Driveevil,' he b, 'fir Gross & Hankey'!Res)qaa n3hurch ofdMonicaEdgeware Road. H guinea i|L2Twenty!!'JAway they wenRjust >ingNnot do well(m!up !caDneatbrlandau, 1itho!co (!ly-buttoned"rhis tie1earl=!agrhis har:ere sticqbucklesdhadn't $uprshe shoh%H!an_caught a Z$erXmoment, but sha lovely woa2F cdie fo/'T3, John,'d!'al!sovereign#;.;!wab o Q$seOP- 1runm!it rperch bRher CnRa cabh!th~s. The driver?ed twice at sucFhabby fare[Bjump@Qbefor9/" G /. r' said Ii h/ i?aJnty-,o twelv6 Tclearow) wind. "My cUfast.Nthink I ever!"the oth:3ere."usy1cabG$ththeir steamiI\gaw arrived. I paidu !ndi!tocBr`1notu(Cre a surpliced clergyho seembe expostulatingmy  ing in a k2frothe altar\side aisl3anyF5idl,Qs droa Suddenly;!myQrise,:} 4running a7-towards me'Thank God,'<ried. 'You'll do. Come!' jthen?'!'Cc fi!'t@Cegalhalf-dra9 IRwhere$ .myself mumbling responBhichqwhisper my ear,!2vou3Afor rxqgeneral 1ssiChe secure ty b, spinJto 3, bml$nan instaFp > Q than~"meBe on&%dyVEothe6the}a beameNm66 qpositioG!in 3lif`i&!hoRof it 1sta*"meCqing juspwRseems-&had been /0 Rlicenaabsolutely refu. 3m  a witnes= 2sormy luckyAabridegh to sally!vs in sea a best ma7Ss aI mean.1weaoB Q-chaidmemory(occasion."$is+$unof affairs,"4; "0! \JWC%s+ly menaced. Iti@K_H Btake ?F departuoso necess;P" Qrompt'9mspart. At /" asepara xD4ack! -!o tA"wn16. ''&$utlEparkVas usual ljBleftIl no more1drove away in different directionsQ I we5fk5rrangements.~3are;%61col#Qbeer,B, riz; J"too busyO;Sf foo ^Lbe busierE!evT-1. B way, Doctor, |want your co-oT:&!be&gh1b,2n'tIAbreaw%NogX6NorR chanp,jarrest<a Dcaus;)+E is o!T m&$masShat ITvrely on%B"But!is5,sou wishWhen Mrs. Turner\0= DtrayCRqosR. Now!he^ed hungri9ample f!ha`r landlad provided, "I2adiscusGQI eat%A I p2notAtime~is nearly five n two hours we_x QaW., or Madame, r .," # (2-2. We! bj ~Ueet hxw1You6 leZ!o kalready arra !isQoccurHGre ioApoinQkbinsist,mVBfereM R2may(EWto be neutral#To/h ehateveFwill5b)!sm`!un%antness. Do not joiPCQend i)Raconvey[ \rFour or!#)RwardshBopenoS'Ayour ,CopenB4Yes G3 memb:ble2;B= Araishand--so--ll throw waI give$'2rowWTwill, 2sam&%,g b fire#?$ mcEntirelyI JformidableS2, t a long cigar-shaped roll $4an ordinary plumber's smoke-rocket, fitu)a cap at eie Qself-Cing. Your task i&-minded NonconuEst . His broad black hat,bbaggy trouserswhite tie%-E3smiC  \ and benevolent curiosit,Qs Mr. Hare alonh*0B 3illS#b1be !toA3rums'ris herK2ageP!oubordersde lettAs he spo"Ugleamj 2idees of ac 3ounAcurvC[the a [ smar$"(r rattl   1. A#!,_jSloafi= 3 db\q forwar2opeh^ 1hop2earT coppwas elbowed away by anb loaf!o  &"up0"1ame-ntion. A fierce quarrew;ake out"!chrincreas|9pAtooksp9YrID ,P.p1equ2hotAthera. A blow,Rstruc F_*Alady%R, wasrQcentra(1kno"flSand strugglc" savagely3achRxa fistsssticks. # )#inAcrow0fprotecQ; but ! a<Areac^Sher ha Droppae #nd#the blood tbfreely 1hisA. At !faeQsmen !toDqir heel Bone 1ionaounger"sHle b$-?#edo'e scuffle!ta\ 2!inOuto helpQco attthe injured man.0 I.Sr>h&ha,"O!Bteps%5too#toher superbsU"utcagains6ighQhall,ing backA @the poor rvmuch hurt?" 1Hdead," cried|ral voice aNo, no re's lif.Sim!" (". e'll be gone'qyou can!hihospitalHvA brave fellow,"o 1. "hw!hax lady's purseA2 ifd!en for hiW#D ga !1a r>one, too. Ah, he's breavK`an't litreet. May w#ng+, marm?"Surely. B!@ q a comfortNzy2r &THo3youI5ll-; 9 s^ oas on A her-2incQt onc "rui  she values mosteGis aroverpowDcimpulsIQ mornpFaken= 2. I5"ca4Darlington substitutscandal -}k"ndRArnsworth Castle/ woman grabs Dbaby; an un'Bone s her jewel-box' qour ladato-dayz#4precioushy9$att in quest of~secure it.Qd of fixAdmir:Adonecwere 3to shake nerv9RsteelQrespo d !lyY o 1a r^,Q5 a sliding panel just abot'e right bell-pulrs$I P W:r+half-dre$ouYI#ou "it , , she repl5it,?g!at: ,'2not(her sinc #roO1, m my excu>K1esc Ahous9hesitated!mpAt, 91hadCe infs2wat2qme narr+ismed saftwait. A1Qover-qpitanceutruin al}And nowC#urqis prac7j*AnishD shaqH% Q9k!if c>!coukQth us b\;&wn v to wai_bis prob52hatsn"me2may 1neiBus nIm a satisf:+1 toMajesty to regain 1own s(il>*AAt enrmorning1a6 up\"we aWfield%wesc0l!t$ may meacmpleteM$xVW:rbits. IX!wiAKing!ouzl%WCd#!tov door. HeX| )-sthe keyRomeonI# Aaid:- GhUlMister"TEwerelUpeoplI-1pavl0j3timU:MAgree &NQa sli.#thZ who had !byB"I'vDvoic!," Holmes, stad dimly lit# "_"wo"ho the deucRt" h$beb3 ImUaI slepl g anight,wI t Qtoast$QcoffeeWm2int=QA "Y vKlly got it!cried, graspingS by xі1his UNot y)"Bu)Thopeso P!." 1com[!am{simpatieD Fbe g?]W]Sa cabJNo, my bXQam is)OTr*2ill 3ifys." We descee6aoff oFA)or&i XEed,".M"Fd! W6tYesterd11"BuP4whoUTo anMalawyer~id Norton `not loveOxl"inzshe doe4ABeca dRspare2 all fear of future annoya|  loves her husband #y0^E. If$ #< Are i])Q why8 interfere '.LIt is true.Ryet--Well! I wis bown station!Sa queN made!" He relapsto a moody^ Uroken_ j /up) S 4ope} n elderly HstootSstepsatched ua sardonic eyed'j5the rM, I believe?"sh3Mr.O%,"G my companionv k 1a "io %nd'tartled gazjndeed! My mistressy w1ere likel Acallb left.1 byx5:15 tra}(Am Chq Crossp-EtontinenmWhat!"staggered8tachagri surprise. "Do she has sEngland1Nevt 5r!AnQj"?"KAoarsE"All is los Q see. p A pasT ?&rrawing- 2e]a<2 furnitur[ Acatt3t'in every direc+adisman(ashelve! qdrawersiChad l4hS themw4!f-aqbell-pu\1oreR$Dll Jp!er}R, plu9!in5 hbHXout a ^a%* T  50S(!I_superscrib rEsq. To@1ft .xfor." My friend toh 1allr.together. Itdqat mid " oAprec .t:PDY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,--You re.!diGAwellO$m f Qly. U'atR!nosuspiciontI/3howbetrayedU, I 'Pd8war!you months ago*  -iaemployl!f agent*certainly be:P4our.ugiven me. Yet}Qis, 'se revea)1antf1. E}1ZIY1D5us,6C)r U evil{ a dear, kind old clergy#"Bubs[Qan acH" Pd. Male2!ne) R6ake# rfreedomf it givesent JohnJ, to watcran up st+@6 anto mying-cloth!1s Imi)CdownYsOsdeparte"WeQyou tyrK"so=Swas W#anD62 of   celebratedO4Dn I,imprudently, g*4 f);@$my QWe boIosest resourcvqpursued 'so)9A an Tonist; so\#fivnest empt to-morrow9*1#0may rest in peace. I; aand am Zqa bette>1hrmay do!llout hindrone whom tcruelly wronged. I keep it ong safeguara1pre# a weapondalwaysm2any +"heQ takt32turieave a 9 possess;[IX9,J  _ "Very trulyC/s,: "IRENE NORTON, née ADLER  woman--oh,!'2 w Eaepistlq id I not tellhow quick }eE awas? W5 1she8a* %anned ? Is it)yoE>Dleve!FrF%_Dseen!3lad@eems indeesbe on aDCZ q coldlyXCam sorr2notqo bringS%'sxa conclusiOz6"myLsir,4; "Ob{cn24Bwordbviolat& {w/!af-Rif itR i4fir0 qglad to  s say so,qimmense3debyou. Prayz 1wayQn re%/,(aring-- Rslippemerald snake afrom inger and hel^cout upB$;Y Bsome;I=rld valuA { highlbU{bRny%t-!"Bstar *e\ 'AL$"C 4~I>kHJ1mor%beK m . A hon?ojRyou aTgood-Ya" He 0>A, tus $bobserv$4"re odQhim, At of# y@9chambersMEa how a greattszRaffec^qkingdom (#Aplan  {wtS8a'1. Heg}make merry o he clevernesawomen, b3heard him do iu'And when2ApeakF\ Adler, or3he E6r ?aways uEDitle| ADVENTURE II. THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE m,q one daMthe autum[last yea)Bfoun!in deep conversatio:jstout, florid-faced,\/with fiery red ]gAWithZ Rpolog#my*>v !to AdrawP Jme abruptle |Dqand clo9# !meyZnot possibWve come ato k( osaid cordially\Rfraid1you.xAam. W FmuchN:QI canSAnext6$C!No3all5Wilson, hasmy partn&a helpL#S manyJ"mo>3ase4$r doubtn b!utE!usBy%I$al32TheR;=WBroseV,Ahis iNa bob of,*" a t S> fat-encircled eyT e settee," said,42inguhis arm7 pIkEtips,!asacustom judicial moods Eknow ~xyou sharAlove aDqbizarre?qoutsideantionshumdrum r+everyday2%. , your relish[Qit by enthusiasm #ase T, and will excussaying so,f6 to embel|Sown adventur`Rcases Q  "me]Y ;r ?Qthe o Bday,TAwe [OBvery"2 BblemZZ"by:LMary Sutherl8for strange eTextraH combina Qgo toq itself"ch+far more d&%any efforVthe imag`!."A\}iMXI87he libermpO;uYou didW,n}1ss 2ustrBq view,EwiseA#aon pilC#ac" 1fac Ryou qason br$Fdownoacknowledges m slight indic@1 !,  to guidez|thousandq t simila ToccurW[,NvCforc 3dmi @!far9Cbk+"celief,TortlyQpuffeF3hes#anH4Qpridee ba dirt9wrinkled newspapO6!inQpocked2hisAcoat#he d8advertis3d columM2Ahrus92war{#aper flat@his knee,aDlook&2manJ}endeavoured,3ash< Bto r6e e m}b or appea BI di]Bgain much, however, by my inspoT. Our0mS borAA mar$6Han averag+ monplace British tradesman, obese, pompouB AslowDwore !N"grey shepherd's check trousers, a not over-cleang9 frock-coat, unbuttoned5 Rfront8a drab waistegbrassy Albert [8square piecbKmetal danAas an ornament. A frayBp-ha%a faded brown% velvet collarEa#r |uhim. Alc pLQwould{  [tBsaveQBblazb_igYthe expresszextreme!disconten` rhis fea D ,[ ' 2eye" iXM!b shookDhead2smiiced my s. "Beyo1obv8&Ih !at Q1don!ual labour !he*vs snuffis a Freema[! qin China nAa corQmount!wrj( lately,Ga deduching else !st)1 upk,iM2ore! u!, 1his5`T"How,!of3-fortune,7k!llR ?H*#%. Y4for example,> "  . It's aT' as gospel@"I as a ship's carpenter?R"YourZ.1sir 1r rhand is quite a5L larger 3 u#efY1hav#kei Ruscle; } eveloped6thew$enIex#ryH%I won't insultintellig 1by !ng !^QespecD as,CastrictO eQordero B us@rc-and-compass_ Sstpin)Ah9rI forgoA. Bu 7a can b3ica0]rcuff soAshin five inch1the22p smooth p 1nea! H 3you-$sk2butThe fishyy tattooed`lbvh2uld"Ml%Atudy oGH"ev atribut2Qliter"asubjectqat tric@cstaini AfishR#ca*aa delV pinkK "to/a. When^1add]g$Qsee a#ese coin ha& cwatch-jtatter 7Qmore simplB;!ed=iSI never!8he. "I thoughBfirsg"ady#cl !seJa Gm$3all?"inCink, "WIaa mistak R expl. 'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,'Qand ms 3or  Qreput5 , such as4, will sufferz wreck if I am so candid. C> #fi 8^O!Yek%0R now,T+<4QthickQplantRlfway lumn. "HPCt is"is S41all&8Miy q#sih\ j"hih=#as$s(/TO7: On acc2abequesL ate Ezekiah HopkinswLebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A.8 re is now another vacancy *Qentitq memberbhe League x.Qsalar}4 pounds a weekp H nominal+ices. All red-head_VA who4sound in bodm2min ;cthe agwenty-one years,Celigible. Appi person on, at el4qo'clock Duncan Ross, Rofficf:, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet StreetWhat on earth doC1qis meanN8aejacul I had twice :1ove  announce D *"hq3bwrigglU  Qhabit Ihigh spirits>_"ofbeaten track, isVt?" <1AndA, of[ go at scratchftell us allMzhousehold Sffecty ]LAupon 5s. Gnote, DoctorQsCdate&QIt is,"Mo Chronicl5 April 27, 1890. Just two(+S agoJKAgood=3Ajust"  > A, moppingH 3; "|cpawnbrokerC$ at Coburg Square,_CCity 5notU B aff$nd5 itg!Qhan 1giv'a living. I usT(two assistants, but n,Bonly%Aone;pRa job to pay him but 1t h="wim 8owages so ao learz$ 6#is4m0Soblig %th1t.1His5 is Vincent Spaulding%#het youth,71hars!s U>$"shDrterPoazJsvery we#$1betB1him0Band &BwiceQI am 9!to,)BBut,%%|satisfied, whyI put idea?DRh? You seem'ate in having4mployé who comesRQ full| Qet prEIta exper8" V!ertWdon't,'^[s`)r t4Oh, (aults, tooA. "N3was fellowphotography. SnaGBawayo a-4ra #E " QimproWvhis min1n d :cellar like atbits hoc-k_ Vhis main o! wC/a worker. T)RAno v!inHe is stillayou, ID3umem bsir. HTa girl of fourte1o"a b cookd8aplace R--that's|"! 73am a widowK" 'qany fam W5i quietlyC +D!weq a roofA ourqas andMour debtsUwe do3mor#Ol x!ataus outH  ' Pmk0(  lSday eReeks,apaper sIXC say "'I@(eBLord4hwas a Aan.'2'Wh"?'a'Why,'lc he, '  6 Rc 3MenOUworth   bny manEgetsI"st #at#arH !ie7n ben, so!Bthe Qces areh ir wits' end /$doe money. If my&! wUonly chanblour, )q a nic!tl8b%QreadymgAstepP.iDthen"edC 2seeF! <stay-at-home ma!asqusiness(.eaead ofbEz#to!3it,Eweeks on0*AputtZWSmy fowgdoor-matat way I didismuch of~was going on$$1!gl4new"Hah1ear H X q?' he BCopen I wonderS"at1youh Aself#onMhVD!at@iKGorth 4Oh,Ha couple of hundred a r"th>9,"Sit ne]!u>Kwith one's$& eAWell0 LbeasilyK|"atAmck up my ?$ 4h(Qover-@n"$Aan _  ShandyAbTell m9!it2id IC!"'he, showing m 4, '!se$ Q 1hy u8b wher!sh{abfor particulars"aAout,Ew!unR y an American millionaire, % 1whoGupeculiaAwaysjCwas i p reat sympath9alluen; so 1dieRS;qnormousWDtuneXhG!xrinstruc(#to^!th'Athe B df easy berth7P"se%!isS!. 3. 3ear[rsplendi1and $cto doh6'Bu2, '/$beK" )QNot so many A (,'3. ' # K<confined to Londonengrown mennThad [Cfrom=2wasmiLBhe wdAto dr old t#1turiTgain,sQno usS1r Qing i'r' !uor dark 2any' rreal brWG,.`_B car+xt, Mr. 3you_just walk in;5 p%3 it#hardly be `  2whi 6putt3out 2 waptP ke of a few:WNtfact, gentlemeD mayu1vesz%at: 2L7ich tint DM kAat ir "anUC!etmatter I H`s` a Uce ast [I ~Dmet. M=73uch0i$I 9prove usefulIaed himQut upqshutter dm%me}.! a holidaywdmv!uph2off)?$- civen uB `_B hop $eesP$at + north, sAR east CwestC6 aa shadr"Ahair Qtrampt?! c{9o `XHwithBfolk]#3ed Dcoster's or9 Cbarr(Anot G~"re2f?acountrqwere br together K(at singl1. E09 they were--straw, lemon,, brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay; b=s Q said 2not~]Mreal vivid flame-!ed' I saw howA"MA#it"rdespairWVp* it. How he"eit I c'imagine,hF1lcbutted Ih_Ccrow!up=!leW+o stream upon_!stCsome] !up`2operback dejected&we wedged i"well as wlR soon\ % office."z GYouru4a2ent,l ne," remarked 1 as client paPAefre-ACemor&a huge pint%. "Pray continu  X22tatyNin qwooden 3a deal tszs behindYsW6  )7a *even redd n said a few word0Ceach&!at$bame upAthen gRmanagtJ'rfault ilmndisqualify them. Ge% am*AseembCeasyzA all Awhenaturn rAittlAmuch2b favou'MAn to!ofcT,he8!edC" 1 ha privatl$u _'q&my<3, '(Fis W fillMrcLeague $'A:y@ry suiteBB . 'He has ebrequir I cannot reCFseen so fine.' H)a backward, cockh}Qn onel gazed ; until I felt quite bashfuln suddenly1plu2forrRwrung Oscongrat rme warm.Cmy 8.$'Iu beAsticOpX#he( will, hI am sure,6"3 tah\*precaution.' Wit%$hedg ?U tuggrQI yebain. 'iXeMB Feyes as he releasedH'I perceiveis as it"be}'#we  2car cfor we3wic!deX6BwigsPqonce bywCt&Qcobbld 2wax disgust you Shuman(21ste?A!j" ^ "ho&"ite top of4voiUTthe 1wased. A groan of disappointment#Sbelowthe folkmAtrooA!wadifferent directionssRthere0'1my N^4" rvMy name%3, ' ""ndOJqpensioners 3fun!bynoble benefactor. AreTB a mTI man% a family?I "edI 2notHis face fell@)'Dear me!' :id gravely, 'i} Qserio Qdeed!?Eoqyou say"waU%c@ $the propag'W"sp#f  W"irVtenan##exelRly un,#at be a bachelord"My*lengthenBthisbHolmesBthatG#to%healjS; but\Rfor uminutese$bCrigh"'I h7$of "bjGbe fatal we must stretch a 3 inpW such a frK#en]1youbble tot#new duties^#awm4fora!al#,'?%I3Oh,8'c"!' "X. 'I:41forcO'"B b Thours#ed1TenwND+$!isL Cly d:qan even"w.TThursnfFriday5Twhich% before pay-day; s7D1sui K vto earn"in{ mornings. Besides, I knew   5manze8 turned upJ/ha 1I. L 2E<'Isy)-Dwork+Is)-!doS '@BWellb 0  i 1, o{SleastnS bui$j!Atimeyou leaveZaforfeir+ :RSforev!,Cclead" I#Scompl|rthe con.smb budgeuffice dur )BIt's/Bfour& a day, and> !no!nk&eP$ $No Eavai B; 'n% sicknessQ6nortM4 ` yEAstay"osr billetfH E!py!the "Encyclopaedia Britannica."xGfirst volu&i%at press own ink, penQ bloq-paper,wbe this! sPCVly,' z T0good-bye Q)aand len C you8 Dmore!important d1bee& l@Bgain( 1bow % B roo|.I went hCd( ,"knJ1wha say or do,%R so pu " 2own#$h 6all#bftin low,;7dnpersuaded B ^baffairI"be+hoax or fraud," b its k I/bed $al2 pa3lieTanyonz~ySpay %1sumd!#so& as copy@? ''H2didu cheer !bu qbedtimed reason)i _ I determPaa look_i=how, so I bHa penny bo_"of#anP]Eill-^ssheets of foolscap 8Ic4to my surpris'2deli3s rVs03TheV)!etbfor me 1 weN#se I got fairly to workzm|letter Ag`"me e!in! 4to 1allRme. A.qo'clockbu"?&complimeIp$!am2q writtBnd l74oor mcon dayon Saturd anager !in}Tplank@golden sovereign "myT(#'s!It*H#amLBweek}rQeek r <5at noon I a. By degreeusin onlyd&}n,!noj -t-B. StKd for an inf.w$BsureݞH9O #oncqme so w  Brisk 1los>iEweeks pass1lik- about AbbotIr ArcherM1Arm-citectuLRAttick>T hop'$di<!ge2S B's  very long1cosBsome%in!L}q pretty1aly fira shelf$my;3s. 7 ehole T4 en=!Toj/And?"{9-O468n .Awork-Qusual$en=1hut|Z,a EQsquar cardboard hammere6lQmiddl'the pane.Qa tac"rea"nGD!!f."HeVup a piec]WwhiteZ=1siz"et of note' is fashion: THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE+/IS! DISSOLVEDY5October 975K 2I surveye2ZIcurt7&bruefulPabehind, QmicalMC Aso etely overtopVotherA0Mthat we both bursinto a roadlaught[i#Eunny|YRour x, flushing upOqhis flashead. "~1can];b&"e,y1 goBRwhereu"No, nor$sh1*m  [ !hehalf risen. "I reall !ss#3{\AorldjyTRusualW&~P{Fjust/RfunnyPray what_Bs di3tak2youDcarde door?" "SstaggQir. IR#no-jQto doV nAlled> rs roundnTNm B%_ " Mcit. FiM[the landlord*BWhat0>4Yes+$OhWhe, 'hisWilliam Morrif2solicitor}3rwas usixroom as a temporarq!veniencehew premises# g QmovedyesterdayDWherI4him!Oh[=ai%di (&!. #17H[Edward Street, St. Paul'9 2but@ D $atn! i a manuyErtificial knee-cap Qno on ieever M" oy>. #AnM"do2"hto Saxe-;Ctook[1vic^Emy +;%h%"lp2N"wa21onl3`-!if ~Ahear1#os`oGoC ! AwishY;%osM7 without a struggle, so, as yu2eres#a<rto poor2who2ain neeZ"it*3 a7you1youvery wise{_5 "YQ( o%; Iqbe happe.MO1tol Ii6 graver issue g from in!"at! s cappearSGrave]"!" p#q. "Why,vh t9! ,! a QdAs far,"ar!on#concerned&!, "I do ^ any grievanceI1is 2WlwOc`4munderstand, richesome 30A, touv C knowledge6!A ga5#onu+FsubjA <3. YSe lostv9b&s#Nop1ButnBout BthemO!whDy arߕq7L!wa,1plaZprank--iflC a m!ex ave jok ,&Ait Athem| Qirty MsG#We;Q5 toAb theseAyou. And,1, H requestionlWilson. uS! oi Qrs wh%1rst,Xerr atten; P ,--how long hadL#ee(!AbA mon$#en1How2me?#In~' s:RWas honly applicantDNhad a dozr1Whyryou pick him3vhBhand1 ScheapAt half-wagesH4fac)%Ye!haZ2ke, bSmall,^r-built,1qui G5B, no oB@Tface,JB he'Cshor}irty. Has aasplash@"ci ! 1ore 4 sa-3his* in considerSexcit("m# l),oUhe. "# sobserve his ears are pierc(earrings23YesHF!th+Qgipsy!it\ b4a lD"Hum, sinking)b deep gtIh?ROh, yD$r;L tleft hi)! Bbeend i r absenc6N>to complain ofd#'s!Q1muc!do$ !"T*bill doB1youopinion /5the  !rs 2a dtwo. To-day is I2!haMonday we m-!me)#jeWell, _cc our visitor%left us, "whatz4iTwI$Git,"a frankMI." щEioustAAs aP&"ea1 th$IlessZ!itre$beC A, fejOA2criRich aS lly puzzling, just F"ismost difficulidentify1musUprompC4tte W:!go ol -g "ToF," h~Bquit7qree pip$bl0bI begd Bon'tg.for fifty Ts." HɎ7F41!1his knees drawn his hawk-like nosI t!hexFDeyesy.2and?QblackQ3Bthru0Aout Xthe bill ofvstrange bird. .NP "drfaasleepcZ3eed8 "ddRself,k{-Cspra +" Lsc1of  2has>!up_}M2putqpipe doZe mantelpiece'qSarasatD!ys!heJames's HallafternoonT" U Tthinkh1? C4jpatients spar"(#Og OA to-day. My practic Gvery absorbQen pugDn.g+K,K a we cabHd lunch"gIr1dealGerman musicAprogramme-' rather1to my tasteItalian or French introspectiv9 . Come along!oAWe t+!le!the UndergrouC AldersgateSFa short walkui%ce singular m`nw]7c/v boky, =, shabbyCeel wAline&dingy two-storied7 houses look9[4railed-in enclosur ere a lawn of weedy grasEa few clump~faded laurel-bushea hard fQgains/moke-lad:2d uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt ballbbrown with "JABEZ WILSON" in "s,a corner,Pda-W'A car]  .0sbin fro i1heaG%onKf ,=6 byes sh7b ly between puckered lidJ b walkeM_!lyh##eeN;Athen]! +, Baing keaHs*2n*e pawnbroker'1, h( thumped vigorously 1pavn Qstick#or!tih."heo!79Adoor qknockedWrly open"2a P-,n-shaven young LPGT in.a mnk you I" !wi8tFg!owB goFFStraQhird , fourth left,"aeQ6Tkly, closs &USmartdthat,"  9Ra.& , in my judgment,_qsmartes; in London!fo!ing I am 2!urRa claqbe third. _!knkW m  vEvident FI, " ''s0W=! is mysteryC)6"you inquireE4wayG"in@s X!7seeG7Not1 xe qs trous= 3see;KqI expec4So see8Z#beAMy dear doctor 2B%$fo!atd"notalk. We are spi1#fxmain arteri 4con  Dffic0cCity jnMD- !stcr roadwa6b"4thexq streaǗcommerce flow#>utide inNgoutward, whil footpaths weree the hurrswarm of pedestrians srealisei#liKfine shopjustately CtheyJ3 a?!ono Bside{!adyYSgnant#r2hadTquitt"Le7%,eeU4ing and glancY l@"'Blikepto remembe# H  hobby of min an exactQBof OO bMortimobacconis>little iBshop-h1bra 2CitSuburban Bank, Vegetarian RestaurLVand McFarlane's 1aged>Adepo"atRes us  now, DSwe've4ur work, so it's( ;d play. A sandw!cug:Scoffe  off to violin-q )cweetne rdelicac/rharmony are no  }evex usir conundrumsN:s2tic4ian, being c#noE1a acapablvaformerv12pos4no 0c merit]7the*ne stalls wrHmost perfect hbVBess,T!2y w his longn fingerpG! !leFrsmiling\ languid, dreamy eyes Qas un2tho_RHolme#sleuth-hound,Q rel "1ss, !-wQ,'y-handed criminal ag acwas possi71con=A. In charact6CdualR= alternCasserted it>j4 astute%re4 Toftentreactio sq poeticAcontemplaqCmoodoccasionally predomin@!inu a The s` aptook him$ or to devo5energy; anCknew, sN$so trulynsu,l4dayS<1had2Qs loungvrhis armAamidimprovis o-letter ed7L#it.5!usR1hasL6uld3com2him>ahis brG$nt reasonjbpower F4risLQ levetAintu,B+! unacquainthis methodsZlook ask}S ! aK3a sn .#ofdmortal;I saw him 'cl so enj~usic atcI fellran evil $be3/*m6setqto hunt. 5YouE!go5qsdoubt, kbremark w9HtSb%weUf4And Esome*ouwill tak$Ahourm1usi _ is serioukD"Why A! i%on@Aever 3sonwCliev wb#dstop i^$ complicates matterspyour help to-n>"#At iI2Ten=be early enoughIat Baker Street& V$3ellm UI sayjYm  danger, so kindlyarmy revolveEbpocketX1wav;4nd,O TBheel,2dis#<3 am crowd.g!ru5at Kmore densn my neighbours,O* always oppress?1a s=$ofCstupiditmy dealings$Sherlocka. Here &"&$rd seen3see(1yetaTwordse;! w6rlyR uad happened4wasf#o$en"!thdl3wasQconfu2 nd grotesque. As I droveg1 toG1ousGCKensO o7bt all,:the%F sto{ b copi Ythe "8U" dow Avisi B~ Tminoup bparted5W]as this nocturnal expN] 3bgo armed? * we going1/cto do?T"in!smooth-faced' jVman--|bplay a'!game. I tried9L!qbut gavup in despai1set " aAnigh"auld brn explan quarter-past nine$ W I st2homn m8y way acrossBParklso through Oxford="toM" N. Two hansom d.*rentered apassagV ound of voices[Babov(@+ his room I f4 1+!im bconver  uwo men,.!whCqrecognis Peter JonesX 8ial police -  H S, sad{3man Ushinyxively respect frock-coat"Ha! Our party is#-etAbuttY 2 upNpea-jackez5!ta#!vy, ing crop{sack. "p"*1youc*.of Scotland Yard?mMZaroduce!to6MerryweatherY#is"ou7as#&in!'s:'n$UWe'rein couplest*2 inOconsequential 4Our"he} a wonderful man for la chase 2ntsb, old dog to" h"dorunning dowI hope a wild goosQnot pZ-$98hase," dm gloomil ^rYou mayc &confidence inHj%IIs loftil!1has4ownD  Dch are, if3ox4nM4#B!toxoreticalAfantastic,ma ?cAIt Ut tooE&1sayY once or twice5&at "ofSholto murdethe Agra treadhBbeen n correct tha6}Dforc!Oh.aay so,!itr"ll the strange"deference. "Still`/AonfeJ miss my rubber. I_First=for seven-and-0pS yearIOanot ha[ Iy"( Dfind _ C&a| q will < higher stake V Y- ever done y"thK#W2 beexciting. F,x vb 30,000 poundsDyou,@!itp!th@1qay your"gs John Clay,e ief, smask|ger. He's a ?manq but heWfYarofessSand I have my braceletmAhan &ny#1ablR, is qJohn C.His grandfProyal duke%heo3has2qto Eton$OQbrain3s cU,we meet signsAm atfy a, we nvBknow@ /ll crack a crib indone week,be raising moneyLuild an orphanagCornwall(next. I'vetw3for$avtset eyeD yeI[UD of 1ing"hayo<turns also r agree!2you !.  past ten, howeverZp)3timwJ ;Qtwo z)+ ", J nIr followTe second 2not>/communicative du. 3:ong driveblay baj/the cab humm !Stunesz K. We rattled)  dless labyrinth of gas-litwReets we emergsto Farr [  W1cloere now," m_(CThis"(  bank direct personally i !st {0t 2avefu/Bis nT3bad,Hۑbsolute imbecil  He has oneJve virtuee! a"ve,qbulldogYas tenaciousslobsterg 2get claws up1yon]j ay,!waT for WQreachoEoP1farAwhic-Rhad e P. 3cabbdismisse0^2, ;Aguid!of |DpassKFa narrow a side doo Copen12us.X!rea small corrid<2end]aAmassiron gate4#as%l1 fl!qof windstone stepR D ter$atS r;Mr.-'2to ia lanternpconducted us Z1a dCearth-smelZ<2so,0 ! $g^ vault or cellarwas piled all r>Rcrate]b boxes83You<avulnerUg#,"Z 5d held@(iSgazedA2himm2NorU1belOsaidEstri'BuponC Dflag1linIS"$or92deaJAit sX quite hollow!,(ZK0!re3ask! b + ore quietN4 severe 81 al>q imperi~7LRsucceGVour %1. MRI beg BouldwM/1ood#cto sit/8cf thos Bfere0The solem3a perch1!on ;ateinjured exB*41ace#le@vRhis &_C andeva magnif$lens, begaexamine minutelyD s0+7s. A fewvs suffic satisfyfor he spranr1et :+j1putAglas1hav1lea S hour(K us, "for they can hardly take?Z21afe! b,R 2not>a42oon1y drAir HQongerPir escape. !atcsq Doctor--d#&Cdivined--b j1CitU !ncm e principal LondonsAchai0%of% ,# hexplain to,S5sons why]za f!s!sh u  $is:r." "$ou?1 gold," whisper4 %. ~{al warningsan attempt mrbe madei Yv?1Yes W! to strengN5our~sFcborrowiG epurposFnapoleon$1the%aRFranc7Acomenw to unpacG=[still lyn$ou2. T#at/ I sit contains 2dpacked layersWbd foil !reL; of bulliomuch large#Dais usu1kep%a single<f $ 0snisgivings upo= @WBwere Awell\(^ifiedO.. "And nowV) V!ar ~"pl), Bour As wi z!a <Ameann , we must pu screen ov!at 1Ande"afraid so. I#c At a j!of\M/#my.v Rthat, gaie carrée@your rubbery all. But IBthe enemy's preparation1 g] Co fawe cannot ris(%Ea9 . And, %fof all^!ch3our !on!"esO@!81theaa disadvantageAy ma"us0 harm unless wfcareful. 4!Tstand.Qthis !do conceal y 2!os !en)n I flasO5ght>#m,in swiftly. IfFDfire(,nN1uncAabout shoot m;I^!zg,d ooden case crouchedB sho7XslideHfront of  = in pitch&aness--.K$ S as I5eve% Qexper1wasA(as:qall was! '1 saZ*e rmarked a chink 53ton1ItsJGanceary. WithM6C, ts>05one$2roatr"edrits sid1a s7, gapingw,'dstream% B.2. Ol Qe edgrre peeplean-cut, boyish_!ch!ed0#ly"it$on)Qaperture, drew01er-Qwaist,Ione knee Oedge. In$ *hdo+1andFrhaulingq! ^b, lith.5likIAa paca shock of tred hai$X"t'J!Rclear\IQhiselmqbags? Greatt! Jump, Archie, jand I'll_1qfor it! N+< asprungL73eiz!inrcNr colla other dived( HChole+J, cloth as7AclutaRskirt ;  -Qbarre a 3butx Q' hun crop came down AAman's pistol cli"`n" wno use,/c" saidj blandno chance 1ll.2"SoC!,"4_sanswereathe utQcoolnog"I fancy my pal if#ri3Bough`I 1 gon coat-tailsT"are three men. i&:oorBOh, F2! Y''m81don 2ver[1. I5`aplimen And I you,"g', jBAideae2new 2eff%U1You2 rD^%tl%&'s quicker at climbr'n I am. Just hol&)RI fixdderbie 3illnVuch m rr filthUs," iQrison,Whandcuffs cl/Obrists.A maysRbe aw $at=#AblooM0my veins. HaveYBgood7Ralso,G,you address gF%0to say 'sir'.'!2e.'AkzQstare'a sniggee BouldaS, sir, march up{s#rea get a !to yBdr High$olice-st? Eette# serenely. H aa swee1bow,!re!us|Dquietly offustody ofMtR,1 )aAfoll/ethem ;Q"I doknow how^bank can*kjor repay you *V=defeated )x mannerg  hwsrrobberyv#coSP @$cscoresX Ao seL Hzrbeen ato/Uae over1s mJ c!ha^p)to refundi'cbeyond!Amply repaid b^ a%#is in many ,Rby he4theAmark 'gR^8w&se (  5hU!" 1sat5q a glas'Swhiskoda in Baker"$q, "it  QerfecbWbviou,=2theFpossible oQis ra# fantastic7advertise\ 3opyYthe 'o",']b#et( Qver-b2 way for a number Ye0WMI Aa cu(81 wajBmana;thC, ri"ity: be7Bsuggest aa metho % +Clay's ingen"mi{"Blour )Rs ac8Bce's{ c The 4*+q a weekdraw him2wha4h ;A plafor thousands?Ty put Brogu%_" d +bincite/mBappl!ita togevasecureDUE*%c week(IM3 3ssin <come for d4wag:%asIhOsome strong motive forTAsitub1Buttayou guJC was!HaMrhSwomen1 ho ICsusp mere vulgard*qigue. T@)8was\question. Tl&'sSwas a#on4 10"no i <3ichcelaborates"snditure y!atAmust{LB' 60c. Whatait be?3oq`%q's fon photography3tri9RanishvF ce| "! w! ee,8tangled clRen Im inquirieso0JZ1fou-i0deal withAcooltnd mosts in London Foingh&--q took Qa dayRTmonth@, once mor;1%ofqL!at!qas runn#q tunnel building.SQI had`wD1wen7):bhe sce aT. I A&rby beati~my stick. I was ascueing wh !`|MPr2w=# Bn I $Ahe b\ wBQhoped9( @swered it. WeYFskirmishes>jAd n set eyesCeach$$Elook; face. His6sqI wishe2seeQ`yfBhow worn, D sta@(@"dy spok !os*rAburrU+) only remBpoinvCtheyn8B forclked rWQa H) H abutted on our friend4mis'$2I lved my problemB8you=2afttq concer@Dcall_b1AYard#+% 3"h:94esu2 4see"An0eU CmakeJ&! Q to-)$?"U\they closir League sT 1ign ay carebg&mMr. Jabez4]sence--ina word:;had complet!2ess}9t wst soon,iAmighI discovered, o bullion%removed.6w1suijm C tha4o 4dayr21givmTAdays'! #llbreasons I aTcome 1son out beautifully,"IRed in unfeigned admir}  's a chain3yet5 link rings true!ItQd me QRennui*, yawning. "Alaslready feel it#mefQ6Aspen"onP)q effortP}ommonplaceaexiste&DThes# qs help cc do so"Anr1are qnefacto 4aceI\He shruggeSers. wperhaps,#Bit i(4som-eF. "'L'homme c'est rien--l'oeuvre tout,' as Gustave Flaubert wrot< George S1U ADVENTURE III. A CASE OF IDENTITYRG3 n either @ w#his lodg7',atinfinitely)43angA any  !th, 4man nvent. We !no sN*ally mec]SIf wep1fly!at1qow hanhand, hover this great city, gentRor roofspeep in ?A queEW 3 arC3 on; coincidenc@planning33ss-N* wonderful"[vents, work rBgeneaa lead" M coutrésball fictioUg its coqionalit nd foreseu2Aclus'most staleunprofitableA1not_Aince?!itF# e# iR papers area rule, baldH# O i reports realism pu Qextre62mitn]i\ Knfessed, nbfascin nor artistic  R sele!anZ"1cre^"usoaproducg " tic effect,"+ 57ais wan! N) r;.!stuwis laid]\ =Rtitud QagistV+,q detail81ich&n Aar cont.he vital)the whole. Depend _$it,J&is o unnatural a_{BI sm4!nd(k"H1eadg2can3lt)k5osaid. "Of courseiy]*a of un ial advis/rlper to body who is absolutely puzzl6  !ou!re%B2tin/2Are b%8ccontac1allj 6 isu*bizarre here"--I pick qpaper the ground--"let us p&v practical test. H4the+h"I come. 'A husba} cruelty to>cwife.'is half a column of1m" I{D$3 rt "at.3 qfamiliam,G$Rdrink Bpush Ablow bruise sympath'Rsister or landladybcrudesswritersi3mor.q"Indeedr exampl-a ortunate one forargument," saiIC, ta;W Qeye dt!isCthe Dundas sepa&it happens,c engagRclear sn@li6W3e Aa teetotalAB w& conductA !ofK7he had drif<Chabi!in"up meal byL1out9QfalsehVAhurldbthem a%Cwife!alY<c81lik to occur"Aimagverage story-teller. T5 65&sacknowl+%ave scor%U you." He 9snuffbox of old golda aamethy4 'Ad. Igqlendourin such contras^his homelaand si" !2not RcommeH1upo( 4"Ah he, "I forgotpI)qnot see p RweeksMifAittl $Vvenir KaBohemiareturnL&myO#ceeuIrene Adlers""AP,Cat aYBUu spark3his(IAreig)dyWXl q2qQ in g#1rvem"ofTZ annot confide it even tE1J4gooA to chronicl!orldof myAOBny o just nowVrinteresX+"Some tenlelve, but noRN4ichZ#]bfeatur<I h/are important%K2outZ=Ting. +G5ein uneTAfielA observation,e$ analysiBcaus 3:Achar/avestig\06acrimes !ap"be@!r,9the bigg e6Nq "is|motive. I s ,[0intricat %8en referrrMarseill~AsGZ|UERI mayAsomes<K,V2SEi0 oQmy cllB, orH!much mistakHAArisehm ;/"taDabetweek parted blinds gazL&dull neutral-tinted London street. Loo+Y3, I'2at Propposit%re stoodj2rge a heavy fur boa * her neck 8ct red fe6 a broad-brimmed e"2til| a coquettish DuchesDevonshirether eaW0(great panoply sh-@a nervous, .]!at6bwindow !le roscillaDackw!fo2Y3herCs fidgetedTher glove fQs. Suddenly a plunge*e swimmer\ SleaveQbank,xhurriedS3roawvKr{ sharp clang]Cbell*Kose symptomsN(.wC cigarettefire. "O:@ DXa mean affaire de coeur. SheAlikeckXA surt3tooitIRon. AkPudiscriminatea(!se1#ly wronge"Qa mannI&erB+Dsualiu 81ken! wC1tak^5["t maidensP angry as perplexed, or grieTcomes inIa to re:6Sdoubt SAs he(was a tap$do oZ1 efdnnounce Miss Mary b+ dy herself loomed behindsmall black figureM full-sailed merchant-man?a tiny pilot boatZ welcomed her&!sy^Atesy{ h2abl"4, h#2los/ 3 do7b)hY !to1 !rmsC, he1I yet abstractedDpecu<FD| not finds`!"t2ithshort si3a  etryingSWtypewriting?"did at first,"}Bansw"` w`etters ar)1outSing."_<sq=!he art of2she gave a+fent starI1#up3fea˅astonishment$2her, good-humou52ace.1've7rH,me+ ed, "else#%BknowfCthatSNm m laughing; "it is my F`!toc things. Pj "trZmyself to see%1othoverlook. I"E, wh1you0 onsult meBI ca:rsir, beb &2youhaMrs. En!gek 'O rso easy.Colic veryone had given him updead. Ohq!bwould do as for me. I'm@Brich# CJa+h,1bQ !ke!chjI5}dit all1com.hsmer Angel.gWhy di1awata hurry+ &he-tips (1and{reyes toqceiling1Aga2 startled look+!ov ehd"qvacuous`1 ofC+ D". cx\bang ' "for ith&#meG!wa\!MrMndibank--6is, my f1 c--tookC. Heenot go   $+o at lastK n2andDRon sa@ r1no Qdone,;m_ I*2my -pB awa3CYour Y "your step, qly, sin(ae namdifferent"YeY?2. I04himr+gh it sounds funny,~'h_only five yearn5two'!ldw#anT Qour m  is alivQOh, y 8Rwell.Mn't best pleased|$ 2whee #ma  sso soon$D's death!" AnearSfteenTyoungZ 1. FE/ !mbTottenhaml% R he left a tidy f m $chc\Mr. Hardy foreman; butEMr. f1de n (%e}was very superioming a travYb in wiG 5whosbe our L "it4 *? "I suppo#;henacame bSrom 3Rannoy1Syour 1gon3all1Oh, g-!itUed, Iy/ , 13Adeny0k+$toT s Uher wQI see9X took -!rnsi1neeJ1Wer \' ahd,U,"WeOI#kAirstDtookZ --Mr. Angel--was a cashierP~ice in Leadenhall Street--and--!ha$icQThat'r worst of i  Bdylive, thenUqHe slepTA 4hisEDNo--except" i% T4youK!leW T Nq Post O",CZs7Q foryK boK d##ff!llcclerks}#y, so I o  p "m,Bhi;eZ7h& "I  7hey,Pcome from me hi"t k4 fea85r7e"Aus. FyAshowchow fo !wa  TittleTk ofaDmostHB,iv 6hbeen an axiomh7are<4m~&a. Can $Tthing$` <!Hea!sh$ 2rat$ "lk Cme }"evdBdayl 7Qhe ha49Ao bspicuous. Very reti,6andC!ly Ras. Ers voic(a. He'd+the quinsyswollen gla| hsQyoung ڞ;-d2himaa weakPat, and a #I1spe$f speechS}1wayURll dr2Aneat-8u;Qweak,B as 3 wore tinted glassessr5glal c Phat happened!  " (++ ] t &  CpropQ at we shTmarryIEbackLin dreadful earne%nds1h}&TestamentQwhateH  q be truqhim. Mo"sa#waa righu /sa sign passion. Z0Al in}bfavour!as6!erl 2han tK"ofm" %I e3ask{;KBboth Ato #Gc0"to2him }$ )1 I+^"$n'83liks% $ItR3 I r1aske1leasaQa few [e1wan'dors)o;oU at BordeauxrX company has its FreeRficesRJ8ett"9Ae on ^Bmorn \vweddingmissed him " !EnYit arrived_2Ha!o8wasd. Yournbarrang5!enG1Fri W } in church~qquietly!wab>St. Saviour's, near King's Cros)w "tobreakfast St. Pancras Hotel B camTusa hanso"ac rj two of us he put usda%iRsteppto a four-whee-the only Qcab i1 s 2. Wd  o" Bup we wait< oBQ~#he1didUthe cabman got down1box:Qlooke !onfere! TE hDnot imagi0dq"<zexm .1own as lastY#(Qseen fDard " /t3 orw Z r!beVAseemmm C QshameA4Aed,". #! 8 1too(&kbo leav1o. \ !,,* Qtrue;o=y2!ifP# %un^=Coccu/% q$usY%totIRpledg3him {d 3uld$hi- k8t!!edUange talka-5hasW"%qs a meaDto iMost certainly it doesZown opinion i ?"n,s 4catastropsDK himb :h!esme danger, or else U 2notKatalked325?2inkY B/NnC$!io]!toV3 it4Nonv#On2question. How?;cmatterH1She4n%qOn#toFG^#3? D&Jtell'hew9Wms%6hadA" thear ofP9 #. 5-1aid(&atc#an(vbringing m4the doors ofM!en<1? Now, ifyaborrowI! G, or!m#my0zRsettlvIFG2rea\$utindependent Blook7Ashil"!of #ye<?4whyUwrite? Oh,rives me half-madi(m't sleep a winZ." She pul?6handkerchieff(her muff sob heavil$o 9ui8esC youd c1, r,3, "kD!! sQreach2 decE result. Le A wez cC res6bme now{d/1 le ,1 dupon it further. Above all, tr.le` vanish<1emo 2has\!4lif2TheI'll see him:yQI feaB=?C "ou55 in%. n accurate descrip<n s~  F spI advertis$ !inJD's C<:<she. "H`2the slip "ar m" Thank youaour ad[ No. 31 Lyon Place, Camber)"]Ht'!ha1. W!isq" S's pl,Vbusin#He's3BWest?R& Marf5&d clare-1ers Fenchurch S7"Qstate0very clearly+Awill"Gv a paper!e,?!dv .! ~s whole GEa sealed boocallow it+SaffecHyJkind 2but&n^ gall be <o$me ready*T 1mes<5Forpreposterous h9the. ZK1nobusimple faitl4ourb.e`Rspect6l'Qbundl: {?uW2ablM1wenh5C wayWa promise to come =(shbqummonedM *sat silentb4gb gtips still=qgether,(legs stretchedin front this gaziQed up39/ P"he7adown JTthe rSt1oldoily clay pipUB Q as aqnsellor0,!ithe leanedOM5Cwithhick blue cloud-wkas spin" "up#hi'a0Dof f languorgAfaceA"Qui ring stu,#at7r5>!ed%Cfounm6!mo$*(RA, byAway,q8|1a tUone. find parallel cases9 1you&bsult m x, in Andove1'77  =w qsort atKHlRyear. Old asFidea[=r two detailwere new < b the \38D v1Rppearread a good deainvisible","#FNot &but unnoticed,("di Qknow &1 to8kes^1a1allsD &ls%he13Rsleev;e%cumb-nails8 0Aissu4g2a boot-l  U k4g "at%"#'sance? Describe p1shea slate-coloured,>bstraw 1ith>!of>ickish red;b jackeRblack0 beads sewn / a) 2qjet orn"sbq dressdbrown,BdarkBn coffee [) '!e?Dm>s21grel& were worn thr+3Hr Bfore4Hsboots I<$&Mhad small rougold earrings,2a -PAl ai"be?2irl,a-to-dov! vulgar, comfortL;r easy-W#w& "clɞhKnds softlydchuckl1'Po 5wor, qare comV1B.wonderful wYBally 9 well indee}03tru4 Rr every'ofo /#hi bethod,P#a quick ey7J2. NF1rus impressMrbmy boyuqconcent / a. My ;R. In 4it is perhaps$K&to+1knef Y arouserR9b, thisGRplush1herN  FAmost$ful materUQ showmBrace double lineathe wris"er!3isto Hwas beautiP"edvssewing-!,hCype,J milar markDonly9sleft arUqit fartt!e ,4!ea%B broadest part'Ras. I2d a fDand,qRhe din a pince-nez at ei) p3herA3I 3d a>1twriting  asurprie1r."%It4d m26But8i.G7Gmuch@y Ring down to~ vJ" s/1wea)!C.!unio /$odd ones;e@ 1a scorated toe-cap Y a plainQ "On Dbtwo lower sf&Xt rbfifth.:ylh- a young lady,wise neatlywaed, ha!be awayBhome !od/Ats, !Qed,  no great deduc*hat she O])Dhurr22And Felse]Q, keexDIHwas, by 2!'s4siv~E="I noted Apasse 8 written a*t beforeBNSafter7 {d2herb glovEtornUy RapparYP+Rboth LBand rstainedviolet ink$ "dier pen too3musTabeen \ Cmarkh(1notoin clearu3theA. A i 4amur  !el)#arrI!go3 W Cnd roYmz+ h%MrMAngel?" I helSe 2 pr%Sslip ."MiX"c=caid, "S1fourteen- /=d.Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; ongly built, sallowScexion, Uhair,q bald i!e W)4shy1side-whiskers/moustache; t# &,- infirmity&4Was,C infrock-coat with silkwaistcoat,O aAlbert*_grey Harris tweed% s: brown gaiters obelastic-sided Ss. KnCbeen employed - . Anybody84ing-g**doL3A. "A#sqcontinu{'8~+"#ari JY Absolutely no clueUm to vC, sam (otes Balzac onc2Are 9eoUaill no- rt strik0.hd71are 7!on*"at.1the&3atuBc. Lookhd neat'*'#q bottomb Maa date A set no super..aLeadenRQStree Bich > BvaguA,B abo ? ,--in fact, wePAiy>5lus&?"Of whats`e is itooAo noU how Jit bearsCcaseY2&do unlesd !he88 &1bledeny hisfWbfor br f w}unstitut#No52 e3. H@|2all vetters,G FDOA. One5Cfirm>Q CityS 1 o5;~ )'sC 1wasa to sp7into a E+drive to Bakerhalf afrai 1I m)be too lat7dassistadénou .Walone` #"hi#4&sn formVthe rece1!ofZ1arm . A formidarray of "le test-tubeK the pungent nly smell of hydrochloric acid,3a spent!dathe chemical workTAyou SFd itSDePd55YesMthe bisulphatbbaryta}a"No, ne!" I criN"Oh3! I#aB+5hrupon. { !evy  ,_,said yesterday, som!arm.only drawback istiM2laweaDLat can toucscoundre"1Who!he nws%!asQobjecGBdeseHMiss~h T !eswas hardly-amy mouGnd Holmes hayet openedvlyOA repX hen we heard a heavy footf3bpassag0 UETthe girl WJames "Q. "He < F#he1be at six. Come in T$Tn whowa sturdy, middle-sized fellow1rty yearBage,T-shav]a-skinnith a blancsinuating manner3a p*Ybpenetr9Ceyes%#Eot a Aing Se at ! R us,$shiny top-hat a cideboaC bow sidled!arK3haiSGood- C. "I|'"th  # iZ&P#in1adei!ap Bment2 A!"YW-+am&am 3latnot quiteq master] .)Rsorry7 GQ hasy2ble%is!atV1for63inkIWSfar  Xth linen 1sorIepublic! j,Rst myF!sha very excitable,!ulOAgirlmJ !an?(1 isLaeasily 1tro  ssup her mind on a. Of cour"di'U much!ar - 5ialFS3but]not pleasanYchave awB misfortune likenoised a. Besides,Ra useless 3howj 4you{#y 8is O}O/H quietly; "'e #" IRsuccebdiscovQ; i." " gTrnt star=SdroppoCam rhear it3sai0Aa cuQ]gnAtypeUr has\Qindividuality& mChand1. Ug ~Eqnew, nocm.exactly alike. Some 1getoE@!"anosM2earo#c side4youJy ,qC in Aslur 1ove~the 'e,' and 1 de)~de taildi'r.' T,3tee characteristicsfe obviousa"We do allcorrespondencxamachinffice, andTiaaworn,"XQvisitO]1swe$Qglancn`$atXiahis br OA rQ5nowRA 3is Jj ' X$,"z?!ofytnother 2monYtse days+aand it/!laJ "to=f0 "su #too[qdevotedi.  .QwhichDL!orWc1Bfrom.t man. T1ten"Rcase, ZR'e's'mAr's'3lesy( observe(! cMAo us 3k  =qalluded6 edsprang ^fBpickhis hat. "I canno t_9qof fant%7G) C," DA. "Ii can cat Cman,#hi&"alet me ! b$1i/Certainl, pw Qd tur]+the key in4"lekcaught him "What! where?" shouted r,wwhite to' `+Q abou] Aa ra),Xp !Oh won't do--  rsuavelycQmpossible getA W"it5". =too tran 2"ntvi2badi6 3s# 1%im3foro6P4 so0/ . That'sA1! S+9!wnl9!itw." OqcollapsBto aa ghastlyUa glittmoisture onbrow. "It--it' aaction " he stamm  very much' ^#noQAbetwurselves, as as crueZqselfishheartlese1ricaa petJ5cam!m(~just runP 5 of eventzL 1dicif I go wrong:qsat hud3sead sunJhis breastIo>o is utterly crushV+a stuckfeet up o r mantelpie,/7ackAands ahis poT,hC1alk"QmselfJ it seemed, Rto usr]S woma=.1oldapd1or Emonehe, "and he enjoyu[1onet d(erXs3vQ them consider2sum 1peoQu`ivmean, op1a h@1d azwhat doe& <3 doavent it? He takese   n5herZ<%AorbiDqto seekFcompany of :!of&own age. But soon he^@ BanswRBever%!berA, inOxd4&B-announce.h2of .C ball. WR1 clc X1henOqconceivb idea Bcred-1hea1Xrt. WRnivanacRcis wif3NQsguisN coveredN k}#y }$ glasses, mI_#faE a moustach$ $,clear voic6Qto anwhisper,-yۍaaccoun~ hort sight, he appi-asYkeeps offp lovers by making love/" % A jok<first," groan7c. "We e71thoI   been so ci0Q"Very ^$r!Smay b!'very decidedly\!, Oh? :Jhwas in Fran9s suspic&treacheryf# instant9awas fl#edT6 gentleman's atewincreas=loudly expD*V admiEb#n(RAngelA toWS ld be pushA fa\go if a real!er #beӀ/re were meet2n engagement, whichBsecua(i owards anyone els}[deception cvkept upwT pretended journeysB(!ra#Qcumbr@PcThe thVdrly to R6 0!ensuch a dramatic$itD"lecapermanm#ioX5 ="'s her from!2ingP!su 1forQ timecome. Hencekvows of fidelity exacra Testah<Aalso QallusO iI!of}Sahappen  o weddingF1 wi ;h&bso bou'Sso un$1 asQhis f<1foryAyearacome, l=1y r)$blisten3As iCthe ;?!do$ ! bm6, !as[go no farther>rconveni .Bed awayC oldc &ofuin at one,ofK%ou .w1ain' u dhad re QassurSwhileR had F Brose2his7A now  ld sneer a>"ce I2 soF#nouQhe, "If you arlQsharpW)H6!en.!to<Q is !ho)2brethe law Et metDdone'1 a=L 3the%a"1 asBkeepcdoor ۑyou lay yBlf o0 )qassault)qillegaldstrainT3ay,? Eaunlock1and9Cwingc, "yetd=`a man who d Ed purqmore. I 3 has a br1 orQbF, helay a whip54youWers. By Jove!Y-Q flusD3up L bVqface, "+art of my dutieamy clir"bu 2e's^ Jcrop handyNh+Bjust(A myQto--"` 1ookQswiftLu1thetBhe tgrasp ibwild cH s"th2!rs!1vy T-bQ6andwindow w,see Mr. /trunning4topw4spethe roadGcold-blooded"!q, laughh1as hDhrew bQ 2onc! #at! will ri"cr ^&I%Q enda gallowcase has` .brespec1"enentirely devoi*n t/!se T reasoning," I emGWell' /.4+.w$1foryvAduct2u1equu l0%f$ Bly T 6da, 3fac bwo men 1tog%.W, bu+%on\]Ded wV1way& d0B. Sodu4epectac'%he"vo !bo5Eat a=" re. My s~aBfirmRteculiar-Din 1ingRsignaJr, inferJ"atqso famig!to- recogniseb! mallest samplxit. Youse isolated fact.minor on"ll"lame directionVAnd hVPa verif1m?"HBonce spottedN%anqeasy toTrcorrobo. I knew03for ~o j2tak_1 prI1cri c. I eld~d #it^D Qresul]W--the6the I and I aW mAa re]&V#ey!inC+ame whuB it $edK1 ofSU Eir Pss d alreadb #icSitieslRI wro1the\ address^2 him if hB com I expected,&)J2revDK trivial but!W!wsame post m9@eofrom Lcof Fen9 -)9theeb talli<eo employé,4. Voilà tout 2"Ans *"If I tell>s4!ll qbelieve zYou mayLold Persian sayE'3 isTW!im- ataketh1tig""ubbdangeroso snatche6eF !.'qas much sens*8bHafiz Z1Hor ) knowledgBorld$ ADVENTURE IV. THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY We!se5"at fast one#, my wifeIX: Emaidg!mmb# papers  &ha`[him. Amose he rumms ,1val bnote-t!aniBmedi, until wpast Rea1Thesuddenly r.AthemF pa gigantic ballJBtoss #on BrackO4you&3n ; ?,|4N1Eword!no`"An a Jw3day"The LondonJ1 haw$3Dfull^M n( 71ughthe recent|s in orde 02particulars#bseems,&Ather{ !be Rose *aextremIvifficul$at sounds radoxicalprofoundly true. S2<2ityWmost invariably1lue)!fe(98and(B# a_i)h tto bring it h=I- *Rq they bestablaU#bagainsz5son Amurdl $ma"a  pD,conjectu dbe so.)4"? for graoopportunit HL#l,o it. I bexplai1ing>1youlto underst# t7few wordsp - iuntry district u"fa ! Rfin Herefordshir)largest la0proprietor aBis a+John Turner, his money(Uustralia}QreturAsome#As ag#u}Ajde farm`he held,of Hatherleq let to8Charles McCarthywas also%x-n1en had know-ogloniesanot un"al1wheAy ca settlew$sh so as near.x#asORle. qRappar#ic}$his tenant Sstill%!edB971ermH ! !1itywere frequQogeth sJone son, ad of eighteen,bhad an (same age,nFmgwives livingyq#1 to"r avoidb socie7aighbousEnglish##to!leired live95thes Fraof sp X#nd<DseenTrace-c!G5e Uhood.cQ kept servants--and a girl8d 3) {Bhold:M5doz! !. %isx4 3D.gqes. Now #ctOn June 3ris, on MondayQ}&7Eat x!re the afternooTwalke {% SCPoolP^ lake fo pqLRout s stream8 runs dowd2. H hM%ouU s serving-manhad toldm Rat he 8hur5bbappointme&$ t r aBIthat7hcback aliveFFroma Farm-hq BPooliCquar"ca miltwo people saZk! p/ Kis ground<Rn oldse name iamentio<|et%William Crowd game-keepK1 ofta. Bothsn~ASdepos8'MrRwas w R alon( p1add'+in^=UMr. 0Dpass,id1on,6-B, goR 1e 2way Ra gun his arm. TB# bhis belief 1 f"ctd#ing2sonBfollV1him/ht no mor"$A6 ?!in1 evr$ [had occurredTl7HTBtime &tc, lostmthickly woodedKZlcqa fringgrass anQRreeds0 qedge. A5 of5R, Pat3Mor! ivElodg estate,&in# es picking fUsb 5Bhile>f$d saw,b AwoodAlake'v, 1hav$ ;rquarrelU the elder usQ language to"sht/#tter rais* as if to strik Iee+so frighten;'2ran#ol* s6ached homs7s "UMnearJpAGF to8#htr$adCs4e zZ, !$upoM"ay[Cdead fUo ask1helK"$KAexciaewithouYhis gun o 2hatfAhis nd sleeve0 eobservTstain3fresh bloo >kthe dead Rtstretch!po" _abesideBpool!hea beateby repeated blR* Bheav}blunt weapor injuries?+2s \Ivery well i uinflict-r butt-e t's gun 3was!ly^& P7pacbody. Undse circumstances!ma instantly arres 1ver6of 'wilful'|H (Q inqu_n Tuesday, qon WednQbefor magist; "wh 5 re&!#$next AssizeRose aU main factv;1 ouNRd coron#heBT-courI imagine a1dam case," I "If everCtial51ce 8tinal itL%>'!."RC Egbtricky&," eHolmesU1Qfullyirseem totraight to oneR& n*b shiftL%3own=uof viewB,~amay fi$! n$uncompromiBmannAsome& Rt. ItP b(Afess9 Bowev(looks exceedingly grav2you2is indeeqculpritrsseveral)  4Tand acm Miss   I3UandowiX innoce2R}mLestrademrecollect "the Stud> qScarlet*M6outQin h3wterest.rb 0Qpuzzl)as $  hH wo middle-aged gentlemen ahAwestkat fifty mi]&Q hour.eAquie7!diW ir breakfasts7PBI, "W's*so%3Qyou E06-xi{zQis no5Aecep7%anvafact,"!*.<*A. "Bhs, we may ch2hitDsome6Qwhich7x1beewno mean 4o/Qknow oi2ink~eQboast-fwhen IH 1I s deither' or destroy] theory by:hCquite incapabl ##bor eves0!#irst examp8band, Ihclearly perceiZiE Qr bedS],"isvZQght-h23sidWyet INhRaS&!no so self-2t aBaHow on earth--!My!3,1, ICTwell.2ilitary neatness)C&es8!sVeveryn#2andQis s+n-x sunlight;Asinc3r sAis l1and A3ete++get farther back w tuntil it becomeitively slov O 2angWthe jaw,!su,#A1sidless illumin ,$. 8not#anr habits?# 'i'\ Dtsatisfi   result. I only qu (ha' Qof ob77inferenchrein lies%*cétier\ZCAthatQmay b`some servicthe investigvd 1 uX dIcone orV2nor)Ewere 5out e!ar&%thiA!"W "y?SI3earI b+2not:eplace D#?Qter $6 to4. Ospector oftabulary inforXk2hima prison6 $not surpris chear iTY/7Ahis 63ts. This(!of"hat effect of remo1dny tr8 Sdoubt XjNde mind@ #  s's jurye#Itr i"I ejaculat"No$7a protest5of edComingpctop ofkt Bseri6k#at %stv<#usfucontrarC1 3Qthe bntest rifHI can at present sejclouds. H E3be,4"ul#ben absolute imbecilofA: Bwere^Ublack Sad heY(edc3owngBfeigBdign!atUI shCF"edit as highly|, becaus}u or angD( _G dces, O( 2estV&aa scheWman. His frank acceptaU'the situTmarksP at man,1elsOEZrc !inm' firmness-/ 2lso4$un#!ifqXstood.a"of a,Tz,#no5 very day s ; forgottenfilial dutto bandy wordA hims even, accordingRittle(" c&soo 1hisb ! reproachi"arF1lay& f'melAsign8a healthy> of a guilty one." I shook my head. "Many \hanged on far sli$  {r "So^BhaveGbmXwrongfullycQis th3 3'Accou2is, aafraid-OencouragSupporcB ~82Gare 85f You >qit hereg may rea1forC!HeX2 I "#d N:iJ)%)# iAcare(a. It r a way:r$Mr@ K&awas then called7gav:Qs: 'I3bee7!om 9Qe dayrBristolR2nly Amornrf  s3rd. MybAat !im} my arrivaI7T  o #aiT"he^?!dr"ov3Ros3John Cobbgroom. ShorVAftero# Iothe wheelhis trap Ayard!,uI #myu,Y"ge Balk rapidlyYUnot awar  3dirIV ! n@"enr is mis7!intHE 6ing!. Q no #J/T in fronse. When\KAyard lEpool@Aa cr"Cooee!"D 5 usual signal betwee#W4 anwRhurri3w~a him j)4ingApool vVmuch a Cat 1!mex -4 me,"ly$OdT!~7! C"rs censuedlxChighand almos'Xf, for%!mavat temp6!eeAis sm!Ting ungovernable, I lef 2mowards#|*g5B Rn 1505, .,N[ a hideous outcry behind meAcausj to run,UagainFe2expA!ou Ld terribly injuadroppe4Aheld !inQarms,$he~LTknelt 2him,Dsome#H+to Mr. Turner'sm,X X%be@*"esQassisw .Pno one n*G, 1howF1amekajuries@w/Ra popj$an{Asome=1col!O\>-know, no active enem"fuUn D !.'GRThe CA: Di5rQAmake;-B he died?L!Wic: He mumbled a few&*only cata allu"tomW.U 2Wha2you%+at1It d4yed Bo me"Soughte was deliriou)G \ d1you!Bf9LN#  aprefer;#toT RI mussSI^ "re/m?e2ell4q assur aBit hhC1do @t#d tragedyz! FC+1for.Acour1decAI nete*zqcarefusaP prejudicr2l=any future pros Rarise{f6.$fu" I4the''2"  I 1 }1How\!it "n,he uttere ~ wISeven Ao   ! (Aableq): I doBknowA Jurymans\1aroP1!on y:GM@R fat 3: Nsdefinit  nKmeanBAso dZ!beq exciteTI rusx$O3Up/ 5 ofRexcepk s. Yet a vague impr9 .4ran  k lay ("he "of;bt seem B"be hin colour,a?Asorta plaid 1. 4 bI rosefIr1for!buݦ&'D&it peyou went for help?6'YeWou cannot sa  :Nt<"hae(d?rQ1HowhT1the&L"A 06  P'E <1edg5oodH^m{tThen if3#-*!r-Rhin a# Df itf4b/"my ' #ithconcluded^bexamin wN$I see," said In1glaXdeXolumn cN"v3ingTs was B#e\. He callT6rp [(iscrepancy1hisqaher ha4lF3himU  Y 3lso! sgive detaikP  s nu[)'s dying _$y.ball, v0"s,jBmuch sceon." =>laughed softlym'g})"ou! cushioned seat. "Both$X'!att pains7he, "to si u1ver*!on7 "th{favour. Don'!se  alternatelyShim R#`2too5*%,#oo#1? TNsittle, ifn cn \a4 ofY CwoulPe sympath_the jury;sDmuchdSevolv0own innerciousness=so outré as a?_ /c]Sing cloth. No, sir, all approach4 catd of viawhat y man says is true#we#qsee whi}that hypothesisW rlead usn rFyw`q PetrarlAnd !noTCwordk9$N!wei1e D of action. We lunch at S.n !be>Qtwent$ButesIn$1 o'clockZ.Qwe at, +Qng th` beautiful StroudE!ov qad gleaaSevernund ourselz]tcpretty  country-tow!Rovn, ferret-likedrfurtive]qly-lookG%bwas warfor usEB. In spitHl*brown dust1andther-legg@ h}!~dhis rusticBZ/5no t>? brecogn*P%, of Scotland Yard. Wm we drov 5the;q Arms w1a %Kbeen engag- M o>aU$2satRa cupbea. "IP your energetic natu7obe happy4 ) ( 3rim^#ni_complimentajSyou,",rIF!Itv,a&of barometric ^ #urvbstartlR Squite^"," i*1Howhe glass? TA-ninqsee. No/fha cloudRky. Ia/ful of cigarettes_ need sm)he sofa iCdperior Tusual hotel abo .  z&sprobabl2I 1use}i to-nigh(aVaindulg~=A. "Y"ve, no doubt,:!  s|]he newspapers Cs`&r plainpikestaff6more one goes into it_8(er'. Still, ,<acan't -N2adyb#e very' one, too54s7vA#ndWyour opini  I2 Ald har!" :Qyou c#doMtyd9Why, bless m 2ul!i[BdoorH 5TpokenHnV!omI"ofO<clovelyYSwomen}*GiXlife. Her IRt eyedwQ?fps parted, a pink flush[her cheeks,EAough2heral reserve los+8qoverpow'7|DRncernROh, M7M!" she cried,/ 8r," Rof use#lyBa woYquick intu!r, fast[:8#myGfX"Qso glC'come. I  5 so?TJames"do!'RI wanj"to1you k1,E1, 7N!le8r Bdoub %  CA+uwe wererhildrenYp Qults S$ a3;P!is tender-heartS1hur ;ly. Such aRg4Qabsur(anyone whoknows himZa"I hop2maya1$2x 6P1. p!"lyf#my#alDTo!Bubprxrhe evid+ 3? eXloophole,0gflaw? ) h,innocent?"JIjATherdwd2thrZAback?!heCding defianH $t ear! He gives me , shrugged#;U<plleague hCen ago1Uso8rI Oh! n[2did,H6And s{$1rea?Dhy hPCpeakU2 )" =q&#it"InSway?" fH"no>>Ehide"anmA had(ygreements>me. Axqanxiousr #reV# m   (us lways loved each Sas br nd sisterlH5$has seenK"ofQ1yet--and--well,3!lynot wish to d; Ryet. Y'Are U@%th'sG hnn4the  Q "Wasn5 ofh qunion?"1No,yas aversB!it 1one Fin \cit." A}b-Cf!es^ "ngk%asPDshothis keen,32ingves at hBqank you}ainform !he)s#e) A ifPll to-morrowxe doctor w(_fT =1Yes^Qnheard? Poo4 haIC years back,}r( 2himYcompletely. R qs takenJ!bhis be% Dr. Willows6qa wreck0is nervous system is shattered#thvTman aliveERX!da$)"ldg'in VictoriaVHa! I!\importand D min"Quite so;t Qgold-",/t j !R mad ,Smoneyncertainl [of material!c to mc"{*' $me-!hay  8sM2priB2. Obyou do a, do y1himEo beT1I w R go home now1s_;Nbe missso if IEkhim. Good-by1Godi undertak4e She #&{; aDAulsi2 t4hadKOwe (&er!ra_.#of+StreetX am ashamed06,oz with dignity after a HR' silL 5"Wh[N7youbDCopesare boun4 Qdisap !? "no- 1 of eh2ll it cruelI $clearingo McCarth3D. "H"anchim inIabut onz-;EThenTreconsider my re3$io("*E out" 1timtake a trQon{8AmpF n let us do WE I f8<%-b slow"I ;qbe awayt1upl ChourE IL 5^Bthem+wanderedsj Ttown,>   , where I la4 1ofattZ[L.in a yellow-back%#1vel puny plo R2torXK!so w(deep mystery(a grop4andd my at+2 so continu `&r>,IsB fluiURacros1nd gave&up!to{A da8ApposhRis uno BGqere ab%3elyF#qhat hel1Q ,/' P and extraordinary calamityLV0  | "Bhe p[= 1 mo0when, drawn) 2 by<creams, hBglade? I[! )*erdeadly. # it be? M7#no  5the,)Xc9'y medicalAincts? I raCe beYCcallAeeklEAnty 8+ contained a verbatimSquestWe surgeon's Ni!5=c1hirthe left parietal bon:S halfu occipi(% N  by a heavy blowaTHaI marke spot !read. Cl NIastruckd" ,.e "oz extent@ the accused,h4een#O  "to #Dit ;bgo for" older man mbturned =Gfelli<b#th #!to"'t `t!he peculiar >BthatM&$ IR9*Qum. A%dya suddenG3notb(#lyoCu%No$!moko be an attempy)!ex how he met@3fat|4whait indicate? I cudgemy brains to fin sW?gn2. AO incidendTb&cloth seen bL C_M91tru murderer.2somT is dress,!umY\2his2coaZlz7andWhe hardihood to =P1rry^i-c instaDs0a knee8$t dozen p>f^a tissue ofiimprobabilitiKfwas! I|hwonder5's M(<s"Qfaith EQ' insIrnot los" a!b as every 8fac(astreng!hi1vico Dng '!ce e  !ed?/=Alone rAstaygRn lod# i3towT ] Ckeep Bhigh#re1sat.of importab!ha T j"Vto go!g 2. OQhand,nn~! AbestSkeeneZ|I!as$I' i!faDlongz .2And "di Tlearn& "m?&!No4Czbrow noD,n#1all^qas inclNE2inkCUvhe knewAdone!ndDBscre=1him Q$er am convinced as puzzlAiy quick-witte%th3com1looIr, soun@4earVuBdmirtaste," Ia)ed, "if i=indeed a fact '/Rbso chaaslady as%ZAereby ha1 rapainful tale. *Bfelly!madly, insanely,v+Btwo ~Aago, ! vRa lad{h1llybfor sh0GDfive_t a boarding-sch[idiot doqget ine clutche&a barmai_bBristoK rmarry ha regist%#fice? No on1s a!* m you can imagine how madd"it"Wbe to4supbraid Rnot G2givhuBeyesA,,'be #G` B sheo&nz'Dsort Sm thrhands up b3airs+"  "irinterview, was goadr"m aproposbMiss e/Lf?TRself,=nO~!by accounts yR man,."n2verL2Qly ha3the truth>l'Qith Ys6wifhad spen!la>,4ree# A9 MH a. Marke! i +r has coS of evil, 9$ R 1J2thebspA!sea d trou( ] qhanged,\2andwwritten.2says5z"sb$;Aread=(the Bermuda Docky<"so< 6dno tiel?! I`1!bi`2newebconsolX  6all5UufferB3But,4has/Ah! who? I \B {particularlycoQs. OnnCthe  dQ h <Asome5pf"#noyhis son  I-heTwould6 osecondw% !arcry 'Cooee!'  51. TF2areIrcrucial7s1whi-ea(w depend"- talk about George MerediteSpleas#weESminorgs * T!waArainwsforetolorning broke brigh  cloudless. At nine-|u7Bcwe set off M the Boscombe Pool.  cCious4his&,"p !obA&qd. "It q"?=,Hall, is so i#2hisis despairbq"An eld!mapresume?" saidnARsixtyQ  Qstitu `+life abroa/ain faiGZ2som}  busines4hadbad effec%1him5  n old friend of't , I may ad great benefactorI? eQhe ga d! r6Qree."gIndeedz"st qqOh, yesaa hund DwaysDbhelpedEverybodytQspeak4his kindH Really! D*td_you as a 2 singularoFthisS, whonBb"av=Yq# been ugqobligat+ato Tur3P\talk of * 2's daught. ia, heicz] Sestat#in="Acock$?2, 0K!itTs merely-S of a a 2allL afollowexWstrange,(k5 `5! o 2dea]q told ulWmuch.P'r deducF a!We1 goA"BeducSs$ _3, wEQat me&3"it !enpjto tackleSBs, , without flyingk2EtheoUfanci!You are  demurely; "you dowAhardt #th2BAnyhGhave graspedT 4facP=m#Bq to get hold of," replied Bwithqwarmth.LNat is--"W{u seniorRdeath#!ju#!atALcontraryF[ moonshinW&Z^!erg than fog, laughing. "BuYGmuchGf/H ley Farm")% a widespread, comfortable`4 building, two-stox-slate-roofed7yvblotchesoflichenBwall*V l:Tre smoke]Xchimneys oAit aGe#ck3t the weighais horror3laytGUit. W  BdoorVmaid, at?' request!we]CootsfhT$ster woruY%im  Aalso_uith 'n# h`'ameasured #seM sA1or -5ems"> < ;+ Rourt- 5w  # wpStrack"K1  0 /transformedQ Sas ho:qa scentthis. Men who7 AonlyjAquie2nke rlogiciaLqBaker S! 3fairecognise2HisTflushNdarkened Rbrows.x"wo black lin2his!shWY"ut1benAthem"eely glitter. w1-nmw!hiTulders bow9 bps cooAe the veinG !odlike whipcordGlong, sinewy neckqnostrilq+rASdilat1a p animal lu|mhV 7 1ind7so -sntrated(Uatter3& 7r fell unheededqars, orUBost,Tprovoked a +, impatient snarl inqy. Swif3/qnd sile@/5he (away a+131ran1ughvbmeadow R so beNAof Aoods8 hdamp, marshy2O$isat districtRthere2mar^ many feet, both7Apath1ami<c shortl3&e aon eit=side. Sometime=  q2 on(1!Astop iQ onc!ZVquite fdetourJ.}c%1 O2 1tec;∈4mAuousDile I wai  !sp"Re  R a 3wasP[3rwards a1nite endD T[" reed-girb waterC fifty ydRcrosstituated`8ary%  aprivatk! wyU0 r. Abov Gi r5dside w"seS> Rjutting pinnacleNqthe sit7ich landowMdwellingxQ poolb grewQthickV narrow belbsodden81 tL;T pacecE edgzFtreec Qreeds]3n'ke !exSpot a Abody\BbeenH, , so moist w4ee! &splainlyBAe trarleft byDfall&ken man. To.c4seeqeager #cand pe8Byes,o>!th~! 8rea`trampledA. HeVround, like g!is6Xting up6 !$(3nioe&&go`for?" he aske"I fished +;rak;N&erb^weapon or}'#how on earth qOh, tut!!no !! 1fooByourp its inwAwist&llat. A mol" ir! vanishes amoi'/how simpl,w0BhaveShad I 4ere;Bthey/!"he;buffalo a!ll>ver it. Hw!th"tylodge-keeperf[c coverXJ s0rix or Bfeet{ #dy$erree separatcA! seet." He drew Ra lenGslay dow proof to1Aa bex *ä4imeCto +to us. "Thes "'s Twice he wd8Rran su xBolesjddeeplyQheels Sly vioQbearsBstor35ran "saf!faHn|) d*3i en? It e butt-endCgun }3son alistenRis? Ha, ha!b!we? Tiptoes! t RSquar?,`  unusual boots! T11ome7 yƈEome again--7"wathe cloak. Now9dF e $?"x"up9dow "lo+ fh until w7AwelliPAwood 1und1dowK1ech largest treLE ~Dhood3dk4way PiCmore{ dc\  cry of satisf8 . For a q "imN2remc,, turning0Beavedried sticks, gbing up$&m rbe dustan envelop" BM1ing! hojn$1onlF+!Rthe b7 Ktree as farI reach. A j%Qstone]BmongCm 2and|walso heIe "re-]*q a pathsHyHxW Bhigh3> ?1ost Q"It hBen aPnsiderabla ,"re,oh.al mannerFancydhouse b*bClodg^{n6!in>_ra wordRMoranrbperhap4  rnote. HwN1don aat, weCdriv(to our luncheon7qmay wal_2ab,4Ib34youg73G 4tenYbwe reg7qour cab1droarB1o RY c?>  qhe had= 3woo &5may3E {i2out. "The murderd .k6!no+4eare noeHow doo <T1assggj@Oait. ItU "lare a few dayDrsno signrAlacec < ataken.(sUjurieZkY "  <63er?'qs a talK, left-hande 'mpx>leg, wears"2ck-"shooting-QOa,2s Indian cigbuses a%Ir-holderYblunt pen-kn apocketsseveral /3ion[t An& Qaid uI$our search7 TJy=:#am$ Aptic! eJ o"very well,"wedbto dea a hard-headed British juryA"Nou'rons," answv calmly. ;!or>r own metho0Qwork min_ssbe busyWτ#Aprob/td to London1 ev c train2AndM$case unfi dDNo, 8B@R07)!It5olv)rWho was;~riminalentleman I describ+4But#hegfSurely !noG )!our populW"T jjD a pract51manh said, "and I r' r cannot1tak^cgo aboEO&EXfor a"a game leg. I2&ing-stoc 6OO"AllgH2youhance. k r/b(7-byAdropTa lin2 I~V!athQroomsAhote8Awe f- Utable2 3wasG!bu $injt2a pexpressio+hpsin a perplex+EositLook here,;hAsaid.Aloth<cleared "just sit Lcis chaQlet mDRRach tLNNn't know s !to?SCvaluadvice. L(&8Bvcexpoun\c "Pray< Wgunow, inp L 2his|< 3twoY*- narrativstruck usRJ4"#al/Ki! m^ 2vou2youi"st#On.""ct 7%thk, accord !ac|, cry (3see-=/1was<$dying referencBAa ra$obtawords,n QstandB3wasTat caughtrson's ear>Pis doubleH*$ "re acommen' begin it by presuUv2whatlad says is4truAXthen?Xrobvious *Qmeant!onsB so.) $kn.3in -4merA heaearshoxe1was.gaattrac& ;>rof whoeS+ +*'C distinctly Australian cryich is usgetween/ apF1ptiUq perso1m/(c expecM!me09Jm atQ was someo i.C took a folded pap0&> !fl|aed it/":Ra mape Colony of Victoria,"c 4I w ;t"it/Cnigh("puCh9Eover驒the map.  4rea bARAT,"d!d._tAnd now!is(_"BALLARATSQ#so ]n uttere !ic<8X onlyBtwo syllablht"toTo1nam}3hisFaer. Soso, of Ballaratd wonderful!" I exclaime #M;2nowasee, Ik.eBfiel$ Aably%S poss3bgarmen9ra third Tq, grant ^1)7#Y"ct3a certaintye$ 12nowfvaguenessdefinite LnRL dCl A9 e62Z"ca! be approach,HUrm or )"rs ly wander#TC!esQexpedu o-day. ByQxaminBhe e3 I !ifl-sdetailsiIX&#toimbecile 5, a"Aalit6  qBut how11youS themYBAthod"is &ed dobserv! #esiaHis he !I Qyou m("ly judge-the length 1stri!AHis ec, too,D"be?+s6u"YeypeculiarJais lam 4The hQC foolways less!inka2lef7 2put%'Dit. Why? B5Q he limped--34lam5nes"ouWU <eDy as record+surgeon atJcinquescAblow-\from immediate@3hin"ye%+Aft s2Now!ca a!unJ"itb9R man?RN#odpl U4dur 8 w t}9"nd P! !sm*%9f" I 2ashTcigar"my special lobacco aenables mpronounce/ny=rdevotedLuAis, 6Qmonograph ofof 140V)1 v7EiRpipe,Y Dette] Rsh, I% ]1andethe stump]1mos!5ere Tossedpw*Bthe y  !ro Cin RotterdaR{!!th$%ot0 Bo9\2foraused a!erA tip@<c9"f,N!bunB cu= clean one, so1ducc  Rsaid,@/4hav)7a nDis mm \ cannot escapo1Fsaved anE8b human4as trulX#if62d c )hv!an5{Rhim. H$&!io /2allZculprit is--" Mr. John%A," coLQ wait5|door of io%R-room2ush9gqvisitor a ! e&'d Aanged"imve figurq slow,ing step/*f3ers qearancedecrepitun rd, deep-lined, craggy feature,his enormous limbsV%!he e >Q str2 ofd%!an!qcharactis tangled beard, griKAS hai1out3ing, drooping eyebrows combin >aan airbdignit|Upower*Y;cof an ashe^ 2ile"ip5#Qorner3ho!,wStingeaa shad^Ablue2 Mb to me[@1glaS!haEc grip ofKchronic diseasezsit downsofa," saida&! g+ahad my0g  #b t it up. YouU Awish see me heravoid scands "I st peopla55 Vw IeBall.uAnd why wish to s|iN!at&u a9.weary ey 1his question{ ualreadybzY`d,!uC9$"hawQwords2:#4so. 2allt1The"9man sankA5. "T1me!.1 =1letO"ma ;!arhryou my}BJNaspoken%b7(nt2 atvUAssiz 6`ao hear%lsay sobravelyv}1nowZ"itO)cSdear girI.r wouldۏA heryt--it will when she(s\ eq"It may~8!to QWhat?"Jno official agent. IHayour d;!ho3#my g&FX1nd c3act2her ests. Y&WAbe g(f %evM~said oldi!had diabetes for years. My doctorR01whe "li~!month. Ye\2die1 my own '2han3gaoI B rosI t"Rhis padqa bundlb im. "Just tell C^C% _#jo 2ctscDsign2*! ]ci $n aproduccr confAa! ,extremity to sav/ . I promis6A use is absolutely needR's as3to; "it'QUHu, so it@ cQI sh0pare AliF=.Cck. " Iqmake th#"oiyou; i$&l! 7!ak/o!You didn'w 1dea, " Ha devil incarnPIPAthat. God keepok H"  Bas h }2hasFAuponShese / "he%Blastlife. I'llBfirsmBI caeCbe  / Mearly '60'ggings. I was aAchaphn, hot-blood d reckless, !to'(3 myNat any1; Iamong bad Dqk to drink,uno luck 7my claim+!thE!hD 1wor8#amdBcall(Qa hig'CrobbK4six of u H"d a wild, free lif2it,((Ba st22imeJ=ime, or stop the wagons_ 1roaj  Black JaAI*4ame %un#our party till remembere12Blony e\BGang9One day a gol#vo/3dow8qto MelbN=alay in for it GSttacktroopers1clobm but we emptied four esaddle9Qvolle!reour boyskilled, ,!wethe swagut my pistold-driver,|1thil$p2I\1L% 4hot%(An, b:>!spX nw $ I.A wileyes fix?6 my!:%to. every 2. WQaway 3Eold,~ealthy me)Bmade2wayqto Engl11@b@suspectedIAed Tmy old palJdetermine=Ssettlto a quieqA reZP3 bo2'is3ichUAbe iFe marketTt myself4o ab3goo"mySb, !up )Cearn2I mmy wife died1she me my deara. Eve  was just a baby her weeBseemUblead mVSi$,a as noC1had3-oIn a word, I e a new leaf!dib*/)past. AlkQgoingO AAlaid j_1gonsto townan investmenmin Regent Street Ba co2his},or a boob foot"'HQ are,",' #he[ding mearm; 'we'll be as^as a famil|3you2!'sS>!me_Rmy so# PT 1the2ing. If you don' 'kine, law-abiding&$is'a policemanin hail.'M2ll,j# !es"Antry( +Chaki/Wm off|Ilived rentglBevermF@\qno restme, no peac forgetfulness; turVrHouldhis cunn1gri sQelbow. It :Awors"up}!onImore afr5fAknowF2y pP$an a. What 1ntey BhaveOw&-I21himTout 1, l$ѯ#s,\3a5!81 a 6Wk not give9*2for_ B2HiscF2 grown up!soG !my"as J " w!alMta strok ;@! 2aH^$inAholeHcerty. `+bas fi  ;(1rse}Ack mAwithB,; any disli2theU1but % mF!waugh. I stood Lthreatened. I brav"mQworstwDmeetpool midway$3ourbtalk ifDWhen d=*71son 3I cIs a treeuld be alone. But.'7hralk allYQblackeAbitt D meD"touppermoswas urgingrry my $asRregaru'$sh;j3s9R slut2off snAdrovBm{ $SI:I held mostYB2thepbsqthis. C3IAsnapRbond?b dyingqa desperate man. T)!claf mind~afairlyng of limb, I knewc1my "atbsealedmy memoryN8r! Both"$ bU(2but,at foul tongue. I did it, Mr. Holmes !do BDeepIasinned4zmartyrdom to a6] Tbe en5 ;Tmeshe#"\>bsuffer4Frucknqno moreaunctio: ran if h Bbeen.and veno*!be tHis cry+?5h; 1had`#er =1woobough I3for "go dto fetS4loaH]Qdropp/ my flightc'n;3truh,0een, of' occurrZUa#:you1 as/!olQ sig !hepe&D `AdrawB>Bpraywe may nbe expos temptati4@not, sirdy a inten$doQn vie;Eyour`- p0rself awUcat you#to  Tsdeed atqer cour$ ,%if is condemned1a| A* #itA8W seen by mortal eye;jasecret"'1theive or dead,Ty"feAus."7 Farewell, then2t solemn4 deathbedF0y!, Y!beXCeasikpx+  2youZ2!toA." T" 1 inhis gia Same, "bled slowlkR room:us!Eafte<. "Why doesb playRtrick- poor, helpless worms? I&J!of72 a0"isVAI doC*Qxter'LdL say, 'TJ"buqthe gray  God, goes Sherlock7'VJames WcquitvG$N ra numb(Aobje =3 byBsubml Udefen esel. O} for seven monthIberview"hewI1 is every prospect1son[8 "ma1 to happily tog tin igno!H ScloudORrestsGKa past ADVENTURE FIVE ORANGE PIPS  "ovS2notU records Q casf<c'yB1'82B'90,faced by so many1ent strange65ing" easy ma "tof*dto cho!le8SA9!  apublic.?Spaper.aothers[1offba fielXGthosy*uqualitiqK& k#Qin so3 a degreeI!R of  to illustrat3toowTbafflkanalytical skillj Wbe, a4bs, beg!`2an dc, whil[4Rbut partiallyd6 q explansQ econjectur'q surmiia #%atA logp@bwas so& EZ&isC one"seQ1 @qremarka4in its detaiso start- N"amRoy!qsome ac of it in spitW !thF r/5HBconn7g4ich,probably d,qWT '87 furnished ueries of gr or less Arest qI retaixq. Amongy!hecs!onClve I;(anIthe adven< Paradol Chambero mateur Mendicant Society Ra luxc club l&Avaul1a (xwarehousek Pthe lossc tish barque "Sophy Anderson"N7DGrice Pat4-trof Uffa1fin'1 Cwell poisoning casB0mN% 6Rby wiuw 's watch, to proveH wuup two hK M)AforeGdeceasedpCto b{!at--a deducm-$waRst importance inrw)Aese I may sk !ou+Bdatep2non)Cthem#t ) FQtrainqcircumsL I \qaken up" describeIA dayRSepte< equinoctial gales had seVional violenc"1day1win screamAthe BatensK1owsmBeven(#he6, hand-made@awe wercraise ourBinst# !omQrouti 1andGW1res`#osK elemental  shriek at mankihr;i !araivilisAOQ unt@Qbeasta cage. AsAqdrew in a stormG!er Aloud3criasobbedut a chil>#e 0[,. sat moodily atu"siL+<Afire]O cross-ind>4his#hDrimeI! nty!inbof Clark Russell'sLea-storiesyS howl wto blenEtextSe splE2to lengthM)n rlong sw0sea waveN'Awifeo. to her m' ?R fewa dweller onceiQold quarter rBaker Y%"WB} I, glancAat m panion, "Lr !urohe bell. Whoto-night? Some frieV.dyours,tI?g!"EA6elfne," he answerEencourage /A clientndaIf so, 1s a3ousrNothing*bL1 maB ona"n }I5 it!isQ lik6 #DcronSlady' ]Qwas wras>  re came a1Spassa aa tapptdoor. He0tt9o!ar>cmp awa<2him\'Xthe vacantoB ~a newcomer #sitCome inth1The 14yousO two-and-twentyoutside,U-groo1rim 2ad,d Bsomeof refinqdelicacI!2. T1eam?tmbrella#l1hisc\shining RAld Ve fierce weaI2comblookedo him anx@!gl3lamIWaVqwas palK#Rheavy#of7who is weighed`22etyAI ow an apologysaid, raising~golden pince-nezX  31yes!tr+-not intruding..r# 1Btrac G(2ainyg4nug chamber."Gi!!5and@Q"TheyG Crest$,o2hoo C drys2tlyhave come upeaouth-w SI seeAYes,'e HorshO7?2clachalk mix BhichFtoe caps is q@GB$ivo\F)1Tha"easily gotAnd help(4not!sso easy!f2hea'WN3Mr.R9from Major Prendergau!ow"sz4Tankerville Club3!Ah c;~fully accuse ScheatrCcarda"He sanTTolve *2,soo much!yTbeateK Q four s--three T by mSonce by a womaN^Kc+'re1 +successes3truQgener65fule|.Rbe somQCI be,F1drar8)2fir1fav 6e $s 5casjno ordina$`N @6<ag "lax$rt of appeaAnd yet I "5sir,ebexperiRG!evBsten aS myst and inexplic($chp[AhappVp #wn&&You fill5ith  BPray6"usY QessenxV aommenc,RI canv'$1see!bet $ !Thd5!pu<6hisOQand peqwet feeF Bblaz"My name he, "is John OpenshaL Saffai,'2far<"2canG!st%*Kythis awful busines!Ais aSditary m; so in order `rn idea2, I tgo back`1" .!9VBmy grandfhad two sons--my uncle Elias =#y ,aJoseph4had a smalGu!t Coventry, qenlarge "th C inv?of bicyclDAHe r patent-5theq unbrea\4 ti< R met1suc1cess2t hto sell itto retire up;H8!omxTpeten&M7 emigratrAmerica*o+2man n-ra plantqFlorida?was repor[$adone Nw,A`war he f"-!in*son's armyyW Hood1ros% be a colonel. When Lee lai  !rmPSretur 2hiszwP bhe remRg ree or four(1. AQ1869 or 1870 he33$ REuropxEtookQestatqSussex, 2 H bmade a=btH"e Bthe State;his reason faaving 9NaversionYnegroBadislik the Republican) چd] franchi m% aNDman, 2andhQ-tempt foul-mouthedBngry  2ost+5disIQ" DUDSall ts& Ev ,X%roubt ifJ!he1foo+1ownoQgarde9Bor ,K1s r2his(tEBtakeexerciseb$K"of ar week;1end/@ $C*2roozsdrank a1deaAbran!=d smokedsrheavily^see no societ0 1did want any !s,2evewown broth)$He?7mind me; in fact, he"fancy to me,aFe time saw me firstryoungst Atwel"q so. Th2^(1yea"8,T" h= eight or nin+s4b2!be]2oRBlive3d hD2waybas sobV B foqplayingDgamm craughtc! +2mq3 re\!at\2othbervant2 * radespeople, soPH& ssixteen7pUQhouseX?5ept2keyy)"go" I\)"do7qI likedBlong) disturb him in"aprivac5"erl'on o"hele room, a l -room up athe atticsQch waBvariably loc4"permit ei\me or anyone elj enter. With a boy's curiositybApeepN1Cyholv1abl^#sed ' collection of old trunkRbundl^ (2ect; qsuch a9 One day-- 0 in March, 1883--a lettera foreign stamp %tein fro  'ate. ItbA co= 1for*r Sceives aills wSll p/Dread5#nos] sort. 'From India!' sai%as it up, 'Pondicherry postmark! What can Abe?' @@t hurriedly,Avjumped fittle dried o#5pipp! eJ z 1 Fa beganRlaugh^1is,I+!ugr struck amy lipicight face. His lip?qfallen,o z3proC skQcolou`Rputty^ dh qill helhis trembling hm A'K. b!' he !edcn, 'My God, mBsins# BoverAme!' 'bis it, B?' I#u'Death,#p" r"S1abl + 1 me palpitatborror. I!up0 #| saw scrawlrk$: ner flap, just abae gumM2 K ' AtimeI 'ea9AhingA saE eSpips. P82pow2*terror? I left Qfast->\as I asce$Gtair7gcoming!an rusty kerbbelong3onedaL2 brass boxx%*h_ ']AtheyI'll checkmat- a",'ByHn oath. 'Tell MaryYB VA ro70B-day3sen;to Fordhas lawyer."edH2wheb/a arrivC-3was5to step up  2Thewas burn4 crightlJC gra mass of), fluffyP3#!ofSAed 'lZ 5Aopenempty beside it. Am the box I noticea start,fAid wy1rinhe treble KXIK4rea%G$ ubI wish_DJohn"myA, 't1nes_Qwill.[save mynas advantages6dis<$$my@ r#t will, no doubt, de1youK/you can enjoy i v9%and good!-"fiQ/Q can/ #my#bo?5 it: deadliest enemy. I am sorr 2(f8R q two-edChing can't say w,2urn"s are goyo. Kindly sig" 8 4Mr.Q showKx16q as dir g""itwith hiiincidentx+. Adeep&CimprF I pondered overikary wa"myXwithout be  2any !of{rYet I f 1notO0Be ofvague feeAof dB3!itE behind-"en##n Akeena#hepassed an}Shappe the usual$our lives6!se#Changahoweve Ceverxh()AclinBr 4 of Q. Mos+)3his AspenkBhis 2witCdoor ~"in"buV'Atime H Bemeradrunken frenzyH.Aburs gpBtear0a revoll &3ingJ !at*as afrain/H#n?qbe coopsheep in a pen, b/n or devilAthes SC fit Eover, ush tumultu D{1and!baX him, likecan brazen iUni)er'] " 5lie Aroot.rhis souRsuch 3seeQface,& Qcold ZTglist!moc5it were new raisedx ra basinWell, to!to[nt~"HtterX,/a abusSr patc #n>P8de +$ 1sal,Cfrom#heLback. We fNm! (nzasearch0!2fac[C1wara green-scummed pool1ch  =$r"noj *%e(au Rt two'tdeep, 8the jury, h1regwo known eccentricity,!6averdic'suicide.'%-knew how!qinced j1theCdh + much ado to persuadjTelf ,j!etcTNZ passG "ed? Q`5theN 1and/some 14,000 poundlQhis cebank."xmoment,";! interposed, ""1tata is, I~esee, K1roMed. Let mJ 5dath#rec,1 by(( J<qhis sup T8; oe2 10hsY6A la Kof May 2ndRaThank v ;1Whe("ok property,tY Ea careful`o alwaysNl fE, alLs contentsdestroyed~c   g labelqinitialVq repeat!on'Letters, memoranda,1pts$ a register' wr[beneath.ase, weP%ume, indiclEaturTpaper9 Zhad R by CuqAshaw` :r%J %not Vt c QmYscattered+ e-books bear  "'s.Cin E. Som1warVshowedqis dutyW)+^Corne"pua brave soldi1OthOeba!dueonstruVthe Southern sQmostlbcernedtpolitic!ev !ly( ? t\+1parEAoppol(trpet-bag Pians whoBsentJ1NorjZ_}7r of '843"ca"live at "ll#as}s possibl_u. the Januaryl5fourth day!ew3'Cmy ge sharpyrurpriseU sat :b + P#reZ V, sitxa newly opened/h n!or Cpips?+,Dpalmother oneDhad Baughnw|G my cock-and-bull story a$p  5oked very scf'$Rzzled3h ! sAhingPcome upo U- C'Why&Qon eaAoes Qmean,@$1?' ,1amm7/!Mytb.to lead. 'It istIxHy 'So it is,x1 'H rUV s8Di1m?'#'P +sundial,' ITa, peep !ve!reT "ed$consciousness, as it W-rs, been retsFareham twilightI bcountrErunknown"m,-a unfenzano hesion in bringF zAaccidental causes.' C lWYI !ed&yC%Q connh2, Iunable to B1ugg,Uqhe ideadmurder   <1foo s, no robberyQrecor!st $rs!se<roads. /!neM t tell youcni"fa at ease4w tll-nighELfoul plot!becEoven'.HIQs sinta way I) into my inheri=331askwhy I diRadispos 5it?sA, bea convour troubled "in4way dependentEan i +3.\'b+jAouseyAn an' ' b, '85,!myIT4s e-7Qtwo h+eqG4elapsed sinc )Sime l/G4 ath+Bbegu"opW#Bcurs; t4amiIzi>Sended13genz.%w take comfort too soon, ; yesterday  !haE a#my{#7The.istcoat a crumpled B$ b!to9thb!ok4v"it!Slittl ' :BThis. ei"]-ontinued. "T  is London--eastern division'Ain a Dword%weZ/"'s=Fmessage: '2 !';=B'Putw  R !.'_" you done?" c HolmeZ ` ?C"To qruth"--O!nk|h;!inte hands--"felt helpl<:likb rabb!Asnak 2wri2Qit. II *#thѝ bresist.ainexor4Aevilch no fore&!anQprecautions can gu7 9Tut! tut!Jn L 2|,1manGaQyou a=SU but energys$Tyou. !nop for despair^#se9Z2Ah!BF"y  #myzw)SsmileL ainspector haBh]he opini  5s a( seaths of my relaCwere$ s  Tstate* 2ere !wa s R shooclenched air. "In5blemwBity!7Dried\!ey& 1all2qwho mayi p#usz mcH$aoit"Noe5ordtoJy[SAgainA ravR51WhyB2youzDto m*ried, "and,j!al[49, IV"no5/+Conly%yaI spokwf;' g;&my,!asE#sRN7him#_?F2you-61. Wn1uld acted befo"is Rno fu ce, I suppose1n / q1ve DWdus--no4 $ivt86b mighk3 us]r.Sis onz," said8 brummag$atK!, Adraw ut a pie2dis+ed, blue-tinted!, iE#Tout uQtableT?some remembrance," 8"YeS # byI observe, Fm#un0Qmargirm1=se asheyparticular1ur.ui2gle sheet TflooroAroomP]SincliZCit $K8&haD/(3out~2amo5! ow!atG has escaped dea. Beyom ahe menUaof pip-E"se " izs us much+bhink 8!ge< private diary Ws undoubtedly'"motBwe both bent $hA;f, by its ragged edg(!deqen torn a book1hea'"[0A69," bbeneat fBfoll`enigmatical)s: "4th. Hudson came. Same old*)7th. Set the on McCauley, Paramo1  Swain, of St. AugustinQ<29thQ_uley clearR10th.LC 2th. Visited~Q. All]}!,2bing upAaperFfit to our visitor. "Anyx on no account lose> instant)R spar..$'Bcuss)told meqget hom! atantly3act `LI do6buta to doX]1be BwR put,cahown uYQoVbrass box,describedh also puQa not3say7pCq1by !CunclPtM e3one;sSssertT3e "asAcarr1vic* rthem. HLtQyou d\- n { 1dir2. DPA  $w;Wlour web to weave l!iralready wovenufirst O"is4#moX#X threatensPBPSmyste`to punis guilty,vt#|;oung man,2IA!ll1Ccoat [me fresh ]5!op # ly do as`DadviP k eA" ctake c3Iyourself i eRwhile4w!can be a )p ~a2rea.imminent. How do!go9rBy trai WaterlooC not yet nineJ#etbLw8so LIin safety2RX/3not.too closf/5arm%F"isw To-morrow!se( %caB seeCthen#!NoLr secret lieI/". &tXDk i&Ecall in a day3%in  dnews Da e%s.~Qadvicxqevery hcular." Heaq"usW/0. OutsidRwind 6,"ed51he Icsplash"pa # b(awindow$is_qd story@ #coru* D mad>Ss--blown inZ!us4&-t of sea-we aQ"--wn reabsorbbethem 4Q[. a sat f->mjin silence"hiJ sunk forw~9-8 the red glow@2firn he li#piK leaning! i"heWWeQblue smoke-r2y chased eache [1ceiD I, Watson,, [e Elast f$1s wZvnone more fantastic\0zU SqperhapsA Sig CFour>%]yes. 1"atx!yeq BGvs} #me}w !mi,n greater perils Sholto&BuB," Iq, "form"y definite con*3 wo$sem3are$%noI#ir(!`a by? Who #B andoM1Qpursu is unhappy family , dc4lacClbowt= 1armGhair<finger-tips8&rideal 9"er, "would." ht3oncC 3a 2fac r61bea#, deduce$1 it  % OK K3ledE!it u 5d resul,!  Ej. As Cuviericorrectly  a whole animal byorcontempw qbone, s0 Zr who horoughly ood one link]3s Ibn"qccurate k!atMa ones,# s'After 2hav2yet  <BR alon#attain to. Problemsf be*Tstudy?s4a3ose)ve sought a solu@ pA ai Ss. To Athe 9B#!tohighest pitch*is necessary 4=er h utilis`4facZ!toknowledge$is` amplies yrreadilyaf0Uall V 1ch, "seof free educ and encyclopaedias,[ somewhat rare accomplishment anot so 8*ahat a ma4uld<@Wauseful D<Bwork}  endeavou>2 myg3f I5er E<you on one occasion=}5our friendship,@u*Rlimit precise fashioQ2Yes, laughing. v#Adocuj Philosophy, astronomy,zero, I er. Botany vari `geology prof/$#as3smud-stain dny regin fifty milUown, chemistry 4q, anatotQsyste,q9al liter/and crime records unique, violin-playj!oxer, swords1lawself-poiby cocainbtobacco. Th@Y #BBpoin7my analysimab grinn} .st item.   said, "I say now, as IYT!en 2Akeep}brain-attic st2AwithTthe furnitua1at sbY1use1res#1can&awG#ofrbrary, <zan get iKAhe w~Hrit. Nowobsuch aYbeen Oj%us\, we need .to muster resourcesU=hand me dow letter K 'American E'r stands Hhelf besid 27b let u&#id_)Esitum!wh]`Cy beb8#it(u "st !ma#rt1#1ump  2 had somD!Cg for leb. Men ]Z$"ofUchangir habits #exwillingl~Achar|CRclimav2rFlorida;Ronelyl1of glish provincialh. His extreme lovejaolitud1Engq-'&Tfear of some%r/Qthing Qassumaa work0ypothesisdit wasUI T_Qdrove*qAmericav "to#N!heQ!ed 2can &byZiformidabl *Bself()%'Rors. Did D.T " _s "CsGrom IJf.C},.DEast What do74thaATheyall seaport !atCwrit6qon boarN ca shipyExcellent Ra clur"G7robability--SZtrongi / Yny"an 1. I!  *of69'abetwee6+ its fulfil:3 int0o/o-ree or four B. D3$at7AQdista((o travelB ;Ccome9Iteۛ"!re at leas `the vesse̻+fan or menkG a-H It looks as i y4#se'&ir [# or token!"em.Rstartobir misD'1Your2howS4dee!edsign when it ca3. I2had r steam"y UEhave;almost as so:=. But, as a ma!of*-n #re)cetmail-bo<"1 b0" NTIR! M"aP &ley!eadly urgencyw] ,,Aurge%ng:q to ca7 blow hassfallen e1(Ssich it2tak1sen%R". >#c comeS afore wBnot count Sdelay= Good God!" I cried. "What caj7srelentless persecnvThe pap<71iedBobviCof vitalrh/!soD s}0.is quite1ere # b-!on~1 A)!led3notraout twq!th Qway " d  a coroner's juB" everal in ?L(2men determination@ 4eirE4ean2, bbbholdero it may. !is#/#K.QceaseJqinitialX/cdividu"bethe badgoaIWbBut of PHave youS}--" sai*, bending S is voice--"NQ3 hethe Ku Klux Kla7IyHolmes t%"ovfthe bookghis knee. "Here it is,RentlyS#'1. A3_A der/$ anciful resembl sound pro  aa riflX is terrible# |p 2orm=some ex-ConfederatrAdier] Southern statesCivil Warit rapidlyclocal brancheSURt par,l44Q, not:V in Tennessee, Louisiana Carolinas, Georgia& . Its power was usral purposes, principalSterro"of}negro voter #urF and driv!ryr s7topposed^Rviewssoutragequsually2ceda1senHm[  but genero d shape--a sprig of oak-Is, melon seeds or or>K Ss. On4 `  !e #"m 8*"ei>penly abjureAformbys, or/G fl2Yn hv u.O&ould unfaig*2]:4andh #unFn緒So perfec SrganiM:{e6so  its method0Mre is hardly a 1upoR3ordS1anyQsucceRin bri|Eunit!of l"troaperpetrat2ForY4 flourishBspitothe effoUnited SWgovernment aN bv classAcomm9q. Event/,ayear )Amovef!raAsudd2colt5F]bhave poradic outbreak2sam?%5at date.'d&&",)v, layingcvolume x eu%co72dis6:O&of yP5f  . It may well-v:Bcausaeffect)+2Awond";$is famil0CAmore!acfspiritM"ira. You uF t7i$is~ diary mayZRicate3ufirst mCT!reBabe manyonot sleep easy atMQuntilt7ver$eRA pag aseen--1"Is?}D%$xp^nran, iA, 'sy>#thrto A, BAC'--!isG %'sId4m. !re bssive entriAB ed, or lefa1finuCv+>,n,u:<"C. Well, , Doctor, vlAme lb!in7tis dark"and I believ- Aonly !ncH !ha daeantim6q what I told hiFI!srdYN3A, so$2 meD.my violinq!trforget for hal Bhour2isex6"we2Ae stj'or%! EKellow-meMA ItA-`Amorn[!unrshiningTa subdued bWXness _tdim vei%Rhangs" city. Sherlock<nD*"at BfastIz down.excuse medbnot wa0tfor youChe; _8S, I ,busy dayumW1loo U* `Z0Cstep(1youD?#"Itvery much depend %!!ofBirst inquiri9Ihw\Co goy&o IfL2ll.!nokG  Di.scommenc.6Qthe CeJust r;mKBmaidb"up your coffe!As,>ited, I lift unopened news/YE#eyaLat rest #on a headU,g a chill to myct,fa, "you?stoo late"Ah!" c4his cup, "I1 as"+wA# _;He spoke calmfIwas deeply2MRcaugh"nam 'Tragedy Near+ Bridge.'  0B%nS"ennight Police-Cons5d Cook,"rH Diviw on duty n,qd a cryBhelp a)!wa#2The"%wa1"ly<<astormy2thaEspitn%ofpassers-by, $wa$im3 toD a rescueZalarm! ..,@%#-;*Bbodye mD 1pro< aa.Sgentl2hos&v2it S s%anHK4Qwas f" pocketa 8 br6bnce is.i5Aject"&he GhurrP ro catch# wV.1 StlXS hast?4thehFs3(ApathewalkedB edg 8 landing-places for river steamboatsbody exhib= !no  3vio+ra!dePe Qvicti 1an Qtunatident, h !ec<!ca6att7authoritim1ndiEsidestages." We s!si1 minutes, t ds*qd shakAan Iek!eehurts my prideH,Asaid2ast$!isZtty feel y,W)iTJa personal  #me#!nd God sends mlA y"seUU! bgang. e$to Dhelp<!atr#send him awav 2his\3--!Brang ahair M+S!ab_qhe room/ncontroll$gia flushh>b cheeka nervous claspE un!ofS!lo!inZ sabe cun bdevils$exclaime2Howd C QdecoymI Qhere?2aEmbanks R< direct lin WDwas too 2B\dsuch a$ir?  /E we0%e 4win2Brun.41ofeal work,tqlate in2 evLj+I9Baker Streets Q had^-Crback ye"wa!lyso'clock1entered,! 1pal_ worn. He;!uphe sideboard,VAtearb piecezthe loaf he de)rt vorac,ching iUo"dr "ofL)Y ahungry "rem!Starving. ItRBscapf ememoryE9@% ""NRt a biteD#im4uink of 4qAnd how`!P)We "!A thethe hollow of 1and0 1MQnot I!re)unavenged. Why!pu{ !ir&{ish trade-marl! IB"th-#of!do$me"HeH$an 2cupPORit toSssqueezedaXe table. Ofaq1fivb thruX5hm into( (Qthe i( AflapQrote "S. H.bJ. O."|!leand addressto "CaptainCalhoun, Barque 'Lone Star,' SavannahQ2lQawaitw4 fs port)s, chuck4"?9<a sleeplessrill fins sure a precursoQhis f s5did[#imAL  3is !?"vThe lea.%Z=&j"Hoyou trace it, thee large shee^Dhis  all cover+b date%naIJ$spwhole day"over Lloyd's-RstersAf-bhe old@Alowi0e future careV8$ &PondicherrNdaFebruaQ '83!re thirty-six shipfair tonn1(s reporrj\$osmQ, one  instantly attract ,D~b as hqTclear+bLondontU#is!isne#  oLS Unio{e"Texas{#nom9;bI knew~` 1hip-"! $antn origisP#"ImcDundeePJI?Qthe bm& n'?#>Pmy suspicion becam WtHMSinqui$!tosg!la2preEe3 ofL2Yes)"T('barriveY )qWCdown Albert Dock"sht ; hS21tidsP,bward beo!irvo Gravesen;QlearndCago,* wind is pO!ly-vL1 shbnow pa Goodwin3ot Tr 1Isl7SWightumayou doCJD"Oh, mD$!ma1are,x.ronly native-bor)T are FinaGerman=k!lsy4-all three6% zBshipG iCHstevedor 3has"lo4 cargo. B6/Bir s-ship reaches0g(i&9Rlette" !in dOQpolicNyBse Agent>badly wau)BhereAa ch0#ofb""T#!isWw a flawcbest lhuman plans; #heU!ero %nC2cei ( !e" w 2how0 Qanoth7sW Qs re8themselves"up!irLk. Very P 1andE severe- דuyear. We"edF'1newUthe " "Bnonej>d us. We drsBsome!1far1 Atlantic1hat stern-pos "a as seen swingingtrough of a wave( s "L. S." carv!it"is4e rever kn a# I. THE MAN WITH TWISTED LIP9sa Whitney, brVElias#tD.D., P%athe Th7%RCollet(2St. #e'IAaddito opiu 3R grewl1himIEd horrorEDpity<1fri3andS!ve!ca& him now  yellow, pasty face, droo.$li Apin-2 pupils Ahuddcir Se wre1ruia noble mag#OnY#--9 in June, '89--t Ao my, aboutBhourwa man givesirst yawn'aglanceQclock Sat up!7by wife,her needle-work in her lapcmade a littl=Qdisap>3menA patient2sheH'kto go ouI groanedI WnewlyfFa weary dayWr2dooU(, a few hu-4worB quick steps | linoleum. Ouoor flewV!nddy, clad in soQ-coloSstuffqa black ,9 a y calling so late,"o Rbegan;% &1losk71er ;c,84ranG-, w)Darmspr's neckdDsobbNh?B "'much trouble!cried; "I do so>BhelpS"Why," sai)>wife, pu!upveil, "iDKateSb. How.tartled me, Kate!2 qan ideaR .@Fhen you rI didn'"V#to do, soR" straigh1youaA alL#+ay. Folkzw+.rn griefu&toike birds to+ght-house!"Ia 3 swM~o&M<Pwine andFSr]|-J ell us all it. Or 4youC)t%#!koff to buOh, no, no! Iboctor'3W0too. It's~Q IsahFAhomezqtwo day qam so fg$"q him!"D"no"R  City. Hither aorgiesbeen confiBo on,j=, twitchN !,  Bning5Kahe spedQ him eight-and-forty hourvXre, doubtless FWa dreg0ks, breas=3poiQ5$sl$k "irDAs I , a sallow Malay attendant_ X"upKaV$'dsupply>drug, becko3me "Bmpty\1"Thank youwn%Vto stBI. " f aof minV he, Mr.P I wish to speakRhim." a58sn excla from my  ett, I saw, pale, hagg~*vunkemptout at m1"MyAdWatson>Rhe. H !in&tN2 stq reactOAwithyH)a twitter. "I say,b$ &ais it?*"Nearly eleven>1"Of1C day&Of Friday,S 19th-2GooAens!5 it was Wednesday. IWhat d'Vant tHp for?" He sankANl"on4R arm["obBhigh treble kep""I xQhat i1man &r^2has]44 tdays for4You be ashame<y l%!So)x you've got mixedRfor I' chere Athre98c!urs--I forget howrI'll go E6n'tKate--poorKate. Giv'5your hand! Hav b5FYes,e CnThen I shall g1 #itdC"owthing. FindUI ow-.Roff colourVQdo noAbmyself2I w$ Bnarr 1sag<#wedA rowQsleepChold  to keep vile, stupef 2fum*HdS*?sfor the 1r.   tall man1#at QI felFVc at my ski/bow voice whisp*R"Walk!"me*|alook Qat me=fell quitGainctly my ear. I zT. Ther 3Bcome&Jcy sid"ye/!atp as absorbed as!,qBthin wrinkledm !agRpipe dang3dow, $asFi]Rdropp 1shecssitud!hiAngerAtook ]alooked@+8y &a to pr(4 9+-/\5of astonish" H 1hisr2 so#Mbee himBIPAformVQfille,hsHAgone# dull eyBrega[ 1firo&reBfireAgrin o  z:1. Hade a s 2 mo"o h5nd y'Ghe 4Qhalf 1 to)y once moubsided 2dod, loose-liCssenilitFI!" I1wha0"ar%doeEis d$!As!asw#ca\_canswere P1 ea! *3theqkindnes\?usottishEoI!rsibnly glad tod2tal ! a cab outsideThen pray "itmay safely trust1for@-#7pqtoo lim/$geQny mischief.B reE;lAalso&F notnabman toNAwife\)2say=2youthrown in*#lo$me$cwait , 2 in-0I  to refuse,of=q' reque #@&C)sosdefinit5putawith a quiet air(sastery.1%BthatqWhitney1f1GQcab msion was practicGaccomplished;~1nubsh anyU! c)associate3 my6 in?8ose singular Bwereormal condiexistence. In a few! Iwritten my note, paid 's bill, !!im31ab,Y7Q driv  darknessvery shora decrepit figurdwemergedpium den&I1wal{the stree FG" &s he shuffled alo@^AbackSan un+ foot. Then, 5ingPRaround,Y<qhimself Dburs hearty fiQlaughter.esuppos 1, "you imagine d<opium-smo*to cocaine inje(O) Q weaSes on>n2fav !m8rCview8"Fl!21ButCmoree8n I/)I"7And6tan enem>QA!?"nDYes;}my natural2ies, or, :% prey. BrieflUDI ambAmidsao qremarkaV$rinquiryR7hop!4Lqincoher-ramblingsQse so'&7now. Had I1gniZ3nEdl#nom gw9an hour's purchase;C uSty"myM A rasnq Lascar Bruns6 as sworCahave {5Cance= 2e. is a trap-doorqQ bui ,j@the cornPaul's WharfGb! ctell someI1angue|what hasY "it oonless -!qWhat! Y.ean bodies3Ay,G. We rich men if wJ1000 pounds for !y QdevilcAdone"rHeath a. It 1st murder-trap + whole river 4I fC+ Neville St. Clair0"en&it,AleavNBmoreQour pQhere.ptwo fore> # bS Rteeth/ histled shrilly--a signa?+%as 2 byg1mil<QdistaikDfollDrtly Rrattl@Rwheelvl8horses' hoof<4Now 1, aall dog-cart dashzGp $ow two golden tunneB yellow BfromZ?terns. "You'l"3me,3you#If_be of ust 1Oh,usty comrad ,b a chronicl,ASill Q. My at The Cedars-bedded on{(QYes; H!isE2's %staying there while I conduct .MW)Qis it[ Near Leem!AKentaXDbn-mileM #usV2But2alld Of cours 1are 'll know9i94ly. Jump up MD AllVJohn;I.not needbHere'sa>Dn. L3!foto-morrow,|G #!er head. So long2!J#He7.% ?2hip@$we!aw aendlesMCcess-Bsomb' desertedC "s,Q wid CgradyPsuntil w !fl across a broad balustraded?DBurky'2 flsluggishly benus. Beyond layx1q wilderOof brickS!tar, its@Q brokI@heavy, re_ footfall of6apolicefAsongdttyI1bel p AvellAArackTdrifting slowly; "kya star 2 twM[!an 1rifsclouds.4 drove in1hisF sunk upo,bbreast4theo-who is lost#! sde;scurious"rntsw questPbe which "3taxJ;1wer7AsoreeQafrai0 Q in the current ofFs}don2ralh,{ g3begHQfring!th csuburban villaOW1Tshook , shruggedshoulder l7 G3pipk aatisfiLp !he!acsRbest. <a grand gif_ilencz . "It makesfinvaluabl,*ion. 'Pon myXmaa grea|yee!to1 to@; 7not over-pleasant-9bas won2lI1ld 9E3r /':she meetstfCdoors4YouGpIk2notb)#it.jI2ave"toX 1you`1fac UO D we~ Lee. It seems absurdly simpl?Ayet, 2howA geXQto go9 's plentthread, no)A, buXRcan't&@"it 9-CI'll(B clPand concisely,Bmayb2 Cpark,Dall R!toirProceedHSome years ago--qin May, 1884--[!LeVRgentl Qby na h2> YQmoney <@+,8uigSs0U niclived generYgood style. By degreedmade [4"Bhoodin 1887 he m(:3e da local brewer, by whom he now two children0 occupa1buti #st >ep@!in#2own Brule{3Sreturningx B5:14 Cannon S&aevery . 1 isthirty-seven9of age,g man of temperate habiy.,R affucate faF:#ndLTApopuf 1ith 1whoV him. I may add 3hisyTdebtspresent mom$as far D|Qbeen Sto asb, amouj #88>Q 10s. ale he4220Astan!toAcred$rCapitalCounties Bankyslsrefore,"nk;# 3AAweighis mindLast Mondayaq town re earlicusual,ba> Qthat d two importanm[ rperformw7jQbringEboy home a box%SricksebRmeresm#ce]1ifee.a telegram} Csamely after his departuz9+&parcel of coFrable valu # s|Bexpe4was@"\r officbthe Aberdeen Ship8sCompanyi;! aE=!ll +, jW1 isAcFresno3K ch branches/of,,+ 1fou-di. Mrs.d8Bunch#%ated foe City, didA sho2, ps#'sa, got]"paRBherself at exa E4:35dd ( 11 onOqway bac vtation."8So farBIt iT cleaW Iremember,2an exceedingly hot dayN" ^cwalkedk   1hop seeing a*1shelrnot lik 9$ i3sheM. While sheM!is,Xdown U,/suddenlyrQjaculZT or c.was struck col!seZ# Yna2s iD e:h(" '5A1-floor window 3ope s3"1saw!fa{@aescribes 4ingey agitatedH1wav sS%cs fran; "erW+hvanishH3 so#m-at! tv'h$be$g"2 by~irresistibl7"ce*0V. On-2her> feminine ey-although he w m coat, such a 7T in,on neither collar nor necktie*ConvincedtVwas amiss2him!rubX!thTeps--iD l"pF'--and run Rfront prattemptaMCairs~lthe first  -!oo7irs>Yqscoundrd whombspoken 1thr "er/i$Sy a D/1o qas assiO#z2, pq1hers#instreet. Filled most madd R1dou% nd fears Blaneqby rare 7qune, me  a number ofAstab$ n inspector, "ei@ir beat. The 01two 3aniBback ZA,qproprieQthey $Dd,MrBlast#Aseenrb signu're. In factq3the aZ3no b`save a crippled wretc 4hideous aiv3, s:@!omqre. Bot`R}stoutly sy2elso 1durAhe F Anoonmeobdenials6the(staggerehad almos0/cbeliev heen deluded'qsprang 00deal box 2lay^ R!orKB lidait. Oure fell a cascad%'s [$[#oy promis #omThis discovethe evident confu4the:"  {Qreali1:aq matterrserious "}s were carefully examinqresultsan abominabl!meB$lainly fur!as (-1and#tbedroom -*"ouy$e183. B>f$heZ# VDis a-Tstriptis dry at low tideJ]vered at/#idwv1fou " aj1feeQwater-#  aa broa!opS$below. On U 3trag Cbloo&Fseensill, and!sc$sed drop1vis ;bwoodent+N2. T%aU 1ehi"cu$kwere allAclot f"thM)p.&ecoat. His boots, Csock #ha ratch--allryre no sign(^E3anyese garmen8!reTQ no o   oCust apparent5.gone for_Cexit!%beLp bminousastains sill gave#ulby swimminga"it!es#43the9ctraged+1And!as qhe vill!wh  be immediatelyIn1licda1wasnBw vilest antecedabut asE a's sto9eY  Q 3very few lC#'sb d hard zmAan aq Tessor H4-CfencU@#abORignorBaprotes h)"noWledge-Hugh BooneFlodg Je" ik1waycNissing $'sGauSo muchB t25Nowsinisterb who live0)2whoy)!ly&l Shuman(Awhos3#s Df yname isO%is; fX2@familiar toD%Bgoes! Q Cityiprofessional beggadLough in ordeV3avoUzS reg"s tt=#n wax vestas. S&$TAneed%Greetleft-hand side Qre is>1youyaremark#. 5ang wall. Here iAcreaFAQtakes|daily seat, crossA;tiny sto2matv#la"Qas heQa pit spectaclerain of charityZ: the greasy le 3cap (lipavement < ! $wAgfellowX4oncW ever9aof ma+Asacquainm&-*ssurprisR the harvestpoa-#" 2youiir   4rass himyout observsm. A shoChair, a pakN disfigure>Aa horrible scar,, by its contr:5hash3!up-outer edgQhis uFl2$ bulldog c5and a pair ofxpenetrating dark eyes?%% ao1rasg AolouPsall mar! BamidLcommon crowXmendicantsso, too, do<2wit@MRready=a reply to1ApiecRchaffS%beEA"at(JyHO8qrs-by. m *1m wa lear3the A!maIl%e 2 ofnQwe aroSquest6But!" said I. "Wha hn'1don1gle5cgainst Aprim2ClifeI7sen Awalkh a limp; but inx !rewsZ powerfulqwell-nud man. Surelymedical experLV!S, Wat[&at/ne limb is often compTy1 byq!pt strengthothers." "Pray1inu r narrative#  "fa sI Tthe z h0 escortedE cabQoliceRher c ! bsno help9 mir investig&Ts. Iq BartonhQchargN!\   xpremises,&G"fiXN4threw any+! m. One mistakin not ardB]Boone8Ya,1omeV>minutes n 2hav#unP 4his4Rthe E Bfaul!soon remedi rseized earched,6out" Sfoundc$incriminateJ .0Twere,2rue4$ _2his+ shirt-sleeve(he+ang-fin '4V cuty0BnailQexplav"bl2Afrom)bre, adt L w)Q not 4Abefo7End ` e"re|doubtless same sourcB!de#BuousW 2ingI?Mr. 0lt $ Dc!a ra myste 7himN W $?Jto 's assers)ad actub$\# gPBdecl$Cm!mad or dreaming0 awas res, loudly1%` " -f[!lei2remGK_2 inBhopeqthe ebb$idTafforresh cluuAnd it did, they hardly{mud-bank(they haeEfind #'sat=p#unX1 assreceded. And what dR;b think5i2cocketsI cannot imagiS0wSdon'tIDqguess. ENc stuff pennie Shalf-c--421 1270"c. It QN)+5d DswepOy3a Nody is aNUerentI%fierce eddyW3LQwharfu Aouseseemed likely en_weightedF had2whe2str>tA sucked ( T/fBut I under%1allPCwere room. W2the#be dresse(aDalon No, sir, b! f-met specir. SuppoEbaHSs manN%; . ' human eye the deed!#atAhe dE!n?o_2!inOBrike x>^ptell-tale Y! 4 ta;!anB actMrowing it out,4 itu@AoccuQ2himi2swi&not sinkBhas -d timeN ! hNa Se scufflDM?ried to force heuaperhap bhas al b4his confederatA are\Dying% 3notut8Iqbe losto some secret hoJ^,qaccumul 1uit3hisyI1e 9 $co- Qn lay*haz(make surQoat's5# aU #amZz:e1rusUsteps belowar only jd.1clo  |Soliceed." "It sounds feasibl* sWell, wftake itw for wan'a better.F !1tol5,  X Q take{c!buGH not be sh rCeverh !  ]H/3for.,!ase2his<3ADaa quiep? innocent one*  rbpresenwquestio #vesolved--J  I42hap3,m.$reBis W.x7Cto d9d aance-- 23all, 1 a !iokWIq"ss=+@"ny1within mym| Tookedfirst gl{sso simp3 $yesqed such~dicultisDB(Sherlock5adetail rhis sin6Aseri3+ eventsF7Cwhir6? outskirw3own unti:astraggC%Cleft21ratm<a a country hedg  1sidd 1JusRhe fi%awe dro!&wo! gQere alights stlimmered dWe are= %7Leea0,rion. "Wfq touch;NaEnglis/cin our:,'n Middlesex,ging over !gl)aSurreyp" e2in Kent. SeDB amo; trees? ThaG<ISlamp sit|ase anx7Bears ,o" ^?, caught qlink ofhorse's feet"qBut why1you s<e>Baker Street?" I ask C "B are many<$ie"be &!ou)+,e.- most kin!utwAroomJmy disposa(Qmay r$!ssY,2ill="noq)but a welcome-%G:5rlleagueBTte to mee 4no l%2. Hs are. Whoa 1oa!bd pulld?iMnS largn!stE"0its own gr(A-boy1run!toAhead spring2own[AHolm<1sma8< gravel-]!le< AAs wU[ door flew op#a Tblond88 !opp)Cg@0h cort ofamousse\rde soie1 a 8 of fluffy pink chiffoe+x wrists. Shec3herXHHlY [", V"nd  1oor! 3rai her eagerness,sAly bLiead andj protrudedF Naand parlips, abll?" s bed, "wA4en,/h Qtwo iA,@gQ)#4hop&Bsank8ai 03saw;;qNo good!?"NAeNo badThank God Bthatbcome iUbe weary 1youb{a5dayWeS, Dr.G sb "ofvital use to ~ &Bof m2 !s,a lucky ch 2hase eQfor mbring him basociatlW) I am del_$tofshe, preO: warmly. "You!, KAsureGV Xmy  our arrangem} Ahen iBonsi?wj2hasEso 0C#usMy dear madamAI, "an old campaigneryif I were not I can Awellno apology is ne-#If2$U any.4ce, !too C DVbe indeed happzE!Mr Z DQady ae0:d a well-lit dining-)4Ub a3supper had BlaidJQ"I sh< Amuch9kRne orB Ss, toCI bef ie5e answCs, madam!Do84my feelings.ysterical, normn!ai2. I y\1heaBr re8val opinIU"atIr-|hearts,Rsis aliv( (qembarraf8d. "Frankly, now!repeated9 -1rug5A ke[qdown atd leaned back in a basket-chair.|_Q, I d3You h%deCI do+xMurdereqn't say2. P5/A}G1day6#he e#thIhOn Mon$en,+4 , 9"beoq how i% Q  received a lett)6z%o-| k/4outEc hQ gal5 qWhat!" v.$ar!Ye}r !smA, hoL6 up slip of paper QMay I^He snatche bfrom hJhX{ #mo + h\Cw ovr 5andL/ it intently. I1lefCbs gazi0iC !erq envelRacoarseLSstamp_ Gravesendt#-!1dat,Wday, or rathe$] Bay .^" i?anger is!Bu @ f 'eUnlesseAa cl9forgery to pu  wrong sc1The,all, provehI9%$hi] qNo, no;T"s,rvery owQing!" V3blwo~ Bonly,v V{8posbIf so,W0happened{!C"Oh |2not4zurage mKball isFB"hiDR so kDsympathyy2 usIB91uld4 if evil cameROX3day; saw him QQhe cu Dself 2bed `! Cd up the utmosqt{q"ha@!Do $Cat IS+arespon dsuch b3  < !sei]3!noknvk2 imTon ofw# qUmore tN!theRL%lu5n analytical reasonerK$is ei8ls strong =.];cqcorrobo BviewFH$ ,1ablASwrite!s,V main away c 3you2%Y!unaH9# hno remarks2 le(dN/"we0Apris$ Zhim iD8dmuch sKW&RwindoX-$YeOT<:$a!ca{l1H" He only, as$,n inartiIESe cryHyA~H"lp\!t- He waved4 !BubG_<7. Aaf7B unI&ed.3youPc a throw up` T Cback>bHe dis3(ed.EfCleap7.[iBusee any1@oZ&km &is24manbhH7the+7 t1fooy+rTQuite so-afar asc[ is ordinary1'oXAithos collar#ie. I distin Bs ba1! ae36Riew '"!eifathomedf5r cdH >Bdatabinsufficient.)sas soon|/mnow prepa>1for2ll-%krtook of1coaer waistm-eput on1blu2!-gwandered abougcollecting pillows=:(drcushion! ^1ofa1armCs. W^Qse heH1tru(aW6 E=#an !hehe cross-legg an oun#75sha P:<! ia nr him. I(2dimh   , an old briar pipe betwcgs^yes fixed vacanCocFcorngSceiliV]smoke curlC*qm, silrmotionl"|!shq! -set aquiline features. So +2$I droppedsto slee$+so he sat wh  Md)Ewakec+I-Dummer sunAinto#aapartm[2Thehwas still s5#;%edVz was full" d8*C haz1!2heaI Dpreviousi.OTAwake7?($ GֺDor a}5 dr$"C W"Then dress. No o{~Astiri2yetIi&sB-boyw the trap out." He j # stwinkleh^ mS(0#n Asomb6ink(RA "I (.my watch 1n(1*,twenty-fiveQ7$ pF.hardly '#sreturne"2the$+B boy1put~ b horse-BI waHFtesttheory of min'1 o! (FB. "IJy,]n W54oneEmost= Q foolREuropO e_" h !kiPere to ChRCrossYvA kethe affair now3AndVis itA, smMCpQ bathred. "Oh, yes,h2jok"he1>1inuW#!myk of incredulitycjust bee52d_ 6!go|is Gladstone bag. Come on, my boy;ee whetheill not fitMBlock8WYxour way,1G 1etl  k!ouoebrightsunshineRCroad% 1ors b trap qhalf-cl.!wa, Ahead cboth "inaway we da d.e London Road. AQ++r carts !B, beqin vegesmetropolisF1lin, villas onO Bside`ac /rless as2 ci\sa dreamQt hasD2 in 6s a@-5casrq, flicB6(!rs,Ua gallopBconf+bas bliCSa mol iBbett Elearn wisdom l38n jrbat allDIn tearliest risers1>1gin "tomasleepik3romcvawe dro8Brougoq3sbSurrey9Ed. Pass)Waterloo B;2 we red over_RriverCdash Wellington+ wheeled sharpl;r>Xqourselv9C Bow@,. w`$Bll 1+4bwo conRsGdoor salutede 'them hel>5w's head:o]led us inWho is on duty?"#?2rad7I"Ah,ahow arA?" A?k,Q! on Qal ha5e stone-fla(passage,%#peaked cap# frogged jacketCwishe a quiet with you(." T, Mr.R Step)"mym vM"!a+! Re-lik a huge ledger aa telephone proj R wall7 o<1satQ$rs deskWhat can&$2for!?" Ix"edWBbeggarman, Boone--th!who was charoJ?vconcern0{)!ofSNeville St. Clair,0=1s bt@#nd remandC1fureinquir2Q"So I"&dp"hiScellswRIs he$%aOh, he&f 'cUhe isWMSDirtyG%YeO!do8/a hO"fa.ack as a t@ $'sn 2onc14mA se3p%"a Jr prison bath;g Syou 3would agreeH)$ i_AI sh/Rto seCmuch1;6you2easily done+ 2waycan leave0Sr bagM> AI'll Kgood\q please "5a opened a barred.!pa[. 01 st)9s)r whitewscorrido!!a !of\Ceach!Th$rdVS," saL7. "Here it is!" Hrly shot(ta panel+py)}^/tglancedH"The. " $weN 1 pu/rgratingSer laq2towards us/q#a breatbslowlybheavilHNw- iddle-sized RcoarsbaR !bez~!ca1$0irt protrudF4(i tattered coa5he liber6k0W1e tm% 3I sDh2ght|3man peeled off#rk8 tree. G*"asU1 brIAint!!vP'c horrithad sea~1 wisted liIS1had  2sne1the ! A twitch X1angC,: %]#upB bed a pale, sad-faced, refined-f S-hairsmooth-skinned, rubb/%.!ta[ 2ithy bewilder&nly reali?#thR5qhe broko a scream0Uthrew wdPGheavens!" criinspector, "it i1deeI4XDman.2himXBhotograpX ' cthe reckless }S who abandonsS,A1s dNQy. "BC$so he. "And pray what am I * With makingR a-- Oh,6x can't beS that unBtheya 6of eBsuicWD it b a griN?  BsTyears! 2buth)areallyw c cake.uf 9d obvio'no crime q commit1hat@creforeqillegal Uetain ENR|0g+ i"  )dT1truyour wif t1not&rwife; ib",";)qer. "G䐃lp me, I#no&$them ash!Q ir father. My God! Wn@ ~!be 4him !co3V 2ay,}#execution,4*left my miserablJ as a family+3y )Airst5ZBever} my story2qa schoolmastt ChesterfieldGre I7nWllent educV. I trave Qyouth5 p!ge!alR%2camaporterr#n:4#"apbLondonV1day52edi+`Bseri<darticljsbegging(( xand I volunteerb Qsupplh m]!re9oint fromfall my%s 5tedonly by trying as an amateu=b!geS fact0'to basesa. WhenLActordcourse, learned  nDs ofu"2had$AfamoQgreeni=A forQskillook advantag@attainment/pX"myW~"tomyself as piti%as I made a! !ixfG!myn Qtwist|Qhe ai1a -R slipjCEesh-)!plN !a g 1ead p "an bpriate+","aZUFbusiness city, ostensib)ak%q-seller&L"b. For hours I plied my tradxIae sumsNQmoney20MB<4any)%Cs of#hL6700|byear--6is my average takings--bu"d `efw&m9$ 7Balsosbfacili!reI3e, mproved by pract "ndrme quit rcognise\`#ac a. AllTAa st3of XZA, vaby silver, po niaA badUBfailEtake.()grew richermore ambitious,$ "Z Q,Qr]2marJa2anyone hGa suspicR& real occupation 2deaO1. Se-3whaLast MondCn 1forD1day2was u "myVZa above+2D denq< $6GBw, !ho=aK%F5,n!mySstand RtreetU her eyes fixed ful=66! c*$ , m}2cov a, rushrconfida4, entreated5!prcfrom C!upNQheardHvoicY 3shernot ascend. Swiftly Ioff my clothes, pu W!os a!!ig ig. Even aA's k not pierce so compleBsn!!ocĉdv Cther1 be!arE^*3tha  ccbetrayMe1 cow, reO by my violencpmall cutQinfli1;smorninge BI se"y 2]5swas weLI zRjust 8e !Sto it@!th7qther ba_2I cj! m(\JQhurle!&Cin=the ThamxEhaveQ$atm paF$z'!up! a few minutes"?1, rjD, I[8Ws relief:Binst M%identified ascSas aro!asD$mI !2elsme to explain. II/determin1pre  2 as 51 hmy prefer5for=%face. Know Iould be te9Ry anxI slipped;rP!ndi"idB# >qgy5no M]0 cgether aMD scrawl,,1ing she had no03PCfear!Th"tebreacheKy3day|. "Good  she must& !!"0Tted this B AB, "3can tunderst= FZcpost a`>Q unob5qd. Prob,nsome sailor custom his, who forgot all~ !it:Hdaysgjwas itNQ, nod9vingly; "no doubt of it A3youbeen prosecutQT?}Many times{lw\2ineK,"ItRstop [0ehoweveB. "I;bo husht#up\b1morFHugh BooLesworn itmost solemn oath(1canq"InAcase2inkrit is p%no)AstepdIAy beRnb)3are WnAcome4! R+`w,d !mu2debFB youV "clWh1ishxaew how9 your resultIu4oneRY1, "# 'bfive 0s!su %9hink, WatsoSFqat if =/!ivmqBaker S Vj!inHbreakfas! VII. THE ADVENTURE OFBLUE CARBUNCLE 1A >7second BChristmas,~1ten!of{"ima bcompli s]j2lou%%|1ofa8 purple: k; pipe-rack |Qright2liQcrump8tpapers,K !thIs$weu "cr !inral places. A lena forceps lyq!eac hair suggesh Qe hatFb~#2spe&namanner2the# 1exakn#io0tengagedCI; "R I interrupt you!No aeaam gla"a אS whom,discuss & Tg6.perfectly trivial one"--he je(his thumbRe dirŏold hat--"b rpoints in n5$it!re entirely devo 8qnd evenqinstruc"s;g | 1armQwarmeEhandEI!li 1re,a sharp frod set inY cre thi !ic[EQstals/si!,"Nk)Q, "thxBhomeit looks,_Dh?qme deadriory linkBit--r3luee(Bguid>Bmmystery Z e punish "of*6Rcrimey"No, no. !]" saiaq, laugh S"Only9Pwhimsicalr1incv Dhapp'yN1 four million human sAjostaeach o <2spa?: square milEmcx#re " =aa swarx"it&ryCcomb1 ofltnAexpe0!tozCnmsZrproblemAbe  CntedTstrik ubizarreG# criminal. We qalreadyaexperi% of such. "Sot%I;,last six%IRe add m* #rem1freQany ?$ Precisely. bAlludlmy attemp| "rethe Irene Adler  9 of Miss Mary SutherlO"2 adventur ((%3  o#isP FfallX!sanocent category. You"SPeter wmissionair 3YesAIt i4himis trophy belong,Uhis hG4, h it. Its owncAunkn\, !it b!edycock bun intellectub. And,<2, aRow it%7q It arrYeupon  1ccompan (h" f-$se5is,q, roastvJD5 of's fire !are 3se:VTfour 5on  ,Qy ,chonest~D reG!esmall jollifi"4was#!43war6-Tottenham Court Road. Ihim he saw, i3asl  tallish man, wal0"a &Q stagPwand carryp white goose slu$h6his&b As he4 e# of Goodge s, a rowq+&ou!stranger`.1kno+Q3vl 1kno !of," - #onhe raisedstick to defend+and, swiK H3head, sma 3hopR behiH4. !ru11for!to(41ect.= assailants;B, sh@ qving brK B# d1an :qial-loopq in uni "rul W5FPF2hisQ, too4his heels,Avania labyrintos2lie &of( 3TheN "flBthe (:{zh1lef4bV& bQli"Qspoilxuvictory "hatehI" ahunimpeachablepXWhich su QQstore1Rtheiro{AliesV#. #ru'For Mr;nry Baker'""prC%<witials 'H. B.' ulegiblenr lining,%1 [ Qthous| "ofubhundre< \cJSours, not easy toS lost*t7 q U them!aten, didEd,D"He :round both2and@ J8 kI RmalleBblem!of1res tme. ThCwe r/.%]!rnJAW Asign!atAspitdo Jwould beX! Bit 6 be eate out unnecessary delayfinder hasMq it ofZ/qto fulfe ultimate destiny of'se, whi'M#tam f q gentle Aho 7hisTdinneRDid hadvertiseTT#94cluA3you2 l 1is in>"OnCmuchDCcan deducAFH _ kSBut y:j%. R@ayou ga *Dold c feltkOP contrary51 se&rLtfail, 6Bason1 Dc1 oo timid in drawing your inferenc5rtell meUF<xbQHe pi Qit up2gaz ithe peculiar introspectUfashi was characteriG 2. "phU lessb!ivM:"b7# <"ewXrWsTSch re7)Beast>&song bal ,!il3TC"`1ghl 3! ip/46 cthe fq1it,z| feTafairlyi-to-doClast*6%, WhjDnow fallen BevilQ He %1oreB;"ha 4n formerly,ing to asal retrogr(#ak**Aecli t fortunes,Kindicate^influencodrink, at _,R3him)may accountS&2fac^" his wif/Bceaslove himx H5 Qdegreh self-respect$ d, disregarmy remonstrance. Cgho leads a sedentar=, goes ouL/2, ibof tra G, is middle-dgrizzl~A$J2had$2ithL1fewR4Aanoiith lime-crea$es"he more patent factSto be$ dat. Also, by[Bway,9zC\*b gas laid RX%ou You are certainlyo ,%No#least. It nhhen I give6TthesePbare unQo seeAtheyattained? ">bstupidING amo%o2exaA1how 3youk !as FvY4swe=A cla$Q3. IC ov?C)m02ridjhis noset a quescubic capaa3Rhe; "B!9$so<\r brain<2havSin it T1Bthen!"T"at82 ol! se flat brims cur2aedge m2n0Ais aS bbest q a8Q ban4!riBAsilkV`?cellent l32. I$)q affor buy so expensivejb"ha'4ahat siDthenassuredly gon* Sworldl2\is clear enough,"3how=r eqlaughed(;t?J dV]s)Qittle Dloop .+never sol!ha;72ord; $neaoa1 am(ofs1entCHU way9 aprecauLQagainpLQwe seB$ate not troubl~replace itR0 ! b proof\weakening3e. ! 1 hhe has endeavourconceals*n elt by dauC 0 Tnot OCYour^  sly plausible,5The% `9is qis hair4#i2  2rec>#c6Wfuses ,#llxa close4"!Q low=rPnL1TheZsloses anumber of hair-ends,7An cu scissorsmq barberZry all ,adhesive#thPiBodouw Bdust)  he gritty, grey dust\luffy brown (1hou:1shoGhung up indoors moe2tim!leQ markmoistureainside]Dposi  wearer perspired bfreelyC]3for>2 in "Buawife--Ua Aat sd "ha}qbrushed,weeks. W !se 2, m$ :,'s accum2 ofByour%Qand  wife allows you to go oue 1suc1tatRCshall fear32you ?2 une 3ate!7Bq!'s$Q K1tbachelo,qNay, he #brtBhomeRoose WHeace-offer: wife. Reme2the  g2Youan answer touow on earth doFQdeduc 1 garQnot l=  ?!1Oneow stain, or even two,d-come by chanc " nNJ. +7Vcan b,\ b !Qfrequ!aontactt A bu--walks upstairs at nm  n(hT5BguttTcandl ,. AnyhowT got~Bs from a gas-jet. Areusatisfi  i  Qingena0""I, ting; "bze, as Bjustz i~U03rim"Atted no harm .G!saQe losa,#be a wastenergy.Q had opened his mouth&Bply,G8oor flew open" #, ksartment21"fl!Scheek^_L  ho is dazedT]7S, Mr.'! Asir!Sgaspe@2Eh?Qof itQn? Ha>!ea MSand f7off throughQkitchhcndow?"k$LBrounaLAsofabet a fairerh man's exciO02ace3See0ssir! Sexg8fis crop!" He held outXtdisplay 6ent@%palm a brilliant,cintilla_#fTtone,":an a bea2sizc^# &b purit(Aradi{%itHdA likyelectric :  dŸo,!of*-asat upP a whistle. "By Jove,!q he, "~ %easure trovUeed. U*O Qyou Agot?"A diamond? A preciousEq. It cu+to glassAough2wer "It's mo$rSemNjKbCountemMorcar'scarbuncle!" IhP) so. I ou3Io'rits sizI1seeShat I$1rea Cment@iThe Times{ day lately8Qis abL+ely uniqu" aits va5Qan on conjectureir#7e&10> B noin a twentieth$ market pricqA  pounds! Great Lorqqmercy!" 8( plumpe%%1a c# <%ta oW4'b of usHt6I =sentimental co trationsRbackg$in o"to1 bhalf h/tune if she Xbut A*$ge'tlost, if I r a,;$ Hotel Cosmopolitan," I ", on Dec1 22nd, justV D ago. John Horner, a plumber'b accusQU4aabstran,;Ulady's jewel-case#2%ce1him tso strof  sds been re;the Assizes.Esome# *1her cbeliev\drummag%his news2 glancing ov e dates, o1at @he smooth?/'t, doub;2ver&ing paragraph:4  Jewel RobberyI 26,1 b" Cchar22nd inst., g Fthe avaluable gem5ne~. James Rydaupper-attendaBotel, gaGs80!Teffec Dshow1 upy1he Ding-room)4day(rx# i# R sole second bar=!grk=as loose.qad remt D1but(Qfinalqen calsway. On $Wu@X8had]>,<QureaudBbeen4\   morocco caske!"it6Rwards=?!pi 1was accusto Akeep7Rjewelqlying empty% btable.MaA7the alarmx$rr5ae same "bue!no5Ta eithaoW*oNFG. Catherine Cusack, mUo? r, depos URheardQ's crdismay on discov&*"=ing Aroom &Uere s&$ described-;witness. IW;, B divisionaQrresto, qstrugglanticallBprot4his0 /'terms. EvAprev aconvicsSfor - been givenf bisonermagistrate refto deal summarilyRffenc* %it 6Asign0intense emoti1uri$Se pro7$s, faint$conclusion andacarrieH of courHum! So mucheaolice-(# 1ght<&Q, tof! a<aper. "TheBbfor usl!o w Q seq 44ing!ri-at one end]BcropHiM0'QotherB$V see$4our  suddenly assumed a7!e importantx5les1t aA(. l;H  #Mr. Henry ,gentleman'ba-** w$s4_ AboreA. So"wePQset #3lvepBseri_rto find'is#as# 2ingy #s i(Y8. To doI,#trimplest means firs'$5 lie undoubtedz$; an %in*#As. IH"is&Q #re$"to`*" "Whatyou say?Give me a pencilAt!liU1NowQn: 'F0a be corn( 2HSa)=.EFP.B canH $bby appqat 6:30{= at 221B,Cz4.' Bclea Uconci."V #Buhe see itAWell2is -oQs, si|to a poor man.2 lo{q a heav<: #wal!sc"byj%2mis2 inL@!owTK#qapproac2l h55 ofwQbut fF. Cmustbitterly regretZ>nCulsebcaused7bo drop2bir !"n,{b{BnameMLlfr=M"wh$=36adirect \Tto i#, run down Bing agency andQis putV L"In2Oh,M e Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St S's, EYNews, Standard, Echo2anyas that,NrC.v2Ver(". ui/vAh, yesI}tone. ThankZ$1And(6ay,s52buyA-syour way+and leave it h-"meD!onm%w 3in e l4 ontfamily is,Adevo2Whe A had"'&Q took 6 "it!stC$hYonny ,ahe. "JQ1seeQit gli'zparkles. O s)is a nucle?]a focu crime. Every goodiAy,$vil's pet baits. ]Fre largeNjewels eUfacet may stanQa bloodkMpRt yety1old`4was  2banUqmoy RivO southern Chinais remarkableD  H |V, sav Ais in shade 1Laruby rt34its]$ g>a sinist9AtorytW-C twoHLs, a vitriol-throwing, a suicidvz/6 !ie#3ughQ for1sakz 'forty-grain wei crystallised charcoal. WhoLkHso pretty a toy!bsurveyor,3 g1andprison? I'll lock iTin myh1boxQ)o!toEr to say"wei6 !Do23man  tM0not tell$tdTcimagin.VK  ,N1anyb to do F34tteAIt idFmore likel Qis antY< &nol@4bir9Ahe b1arr"wa>x2blyQif it2B madhqsolid geThat, 1 determine by3 test if :our 1Ands)!No6uat case{6*myf ,"  4ack`Ahourmh"edIr71lik#se 1oluTof soiq a busiG"q. I dinvTsevena"woodcock, I j" B b-%in!%.urences,12I & rto ask :#ud%erI="de7 Aat a,a!af+alf-past six6Q1 my61in Y Q once1. A e8% I saw a tall 2a Scotch1et }ra coat was buttonedoJ chin wai1outfA brcsemicircleL44sthe fan*bJust aCrriv}zRpened<"weRshown!geBto ' room. ":|FRhe, r Afrom1arm greeting3visc2DeasyjBgeni:8which he mso readi. "Pray takeUr" bRfire, 4ccold nnd I obser qcircula_#isbadaptebsummerQfor wIF. Ahwy$S jus"$ts Ip y 2Mr.n!?"!Ye "r,8is &myzD!Hew(5eZulders, a mas-3heaa broad,/#ig1e, sloping !a Aed bEof 72(r. A touBrAnosevq",9! s tremor of,2extYLhand, re,dsurmisP&1hab His rusty!Rrock-qup in C5llam"upC his lank wrists protrudedA2outprcuff orpvAspokCa sf&cccato V7t, choosBBwordZC car g ce imp5 generallyF!maAlear,E Btter2hadill-usag2han?0"We>>sS-, "because we50yRto se x X<$iv9 address. I am$"lo !knQw why["di5OurBa8#hamefaced_&. "ShillingsQnot so plentiful#me5ydAwere5t >0Imno doubtdang of4Cwho assaulted me Aff @] c qo spenddyrhopelessmpt at #mPAnatuZ 3abowAbird1wer!pevto eatx 2To 8!" | Brose3"in cexcite*r&@1 us= !an!ha Bnot 'o. But I presume goose upoasideboCFis s{eQPbfresh,aQanswe r purpose eq_CwellO2 "C&ed5ca sigh>Blief4stiReathers, legs, croBso o>1own+q, so ifbawish--"Th{Tburst#eheartyMaThey m be useful8CI1lic[ F2 goo} 2one>?SsomewCa fowl fancierIseldom seebetter grown1""C"lyb" saidd AriseQ tuck| s newly gained property uD r<>%e who -lpha InnKVthe Museum--wAv1fou"d#1 it <2dayi DstanFQyear Yhost, WindigatT1namtyQstitut4 club, b Z, onZ& of somep%Qevery0Zqeach to%&aeive a; at Christmas. MyC4duly pai ras fami}@+/Z:a is fitted n!&to my years nor my gravity." With a comical pompositT Vhe bowed[!ly;3othstrode offFrhis way s bHolmesh"clp!K"oor behind>jAcquite 1 he$s whatever)n/dhungry Not particularly#"T!3"ug hat we turn our dinnerCsupp7follow up{clue whilo>ABy aZ2ans}I Aa bi  so we drewbur uls."nd wrapped cravats1our4bats. Ob stars1shiN 1colz*ccess sk"1thesX ssers-by blew out /Rsmokeso many pistol shor footfalls raLa cris1nd yeHQswung2ugh(octors' quart&sWimpole, HarleyZoEdWigmor. Oxford3aa pin Bloomsburyx &small public-house +H_ Nruns down Holborn.Wapushed+>JApriv5a!rdt two glasseAbeer Bruddy-facedate-aprlandlordYU3eer( bif it is as!as  geese," said heM"Mya!" Theseemed surpr3Yes. I was speaZPAonlyIaago to^ M}%o<Q 8xD5Ah!"ee=syou seeQthem'=QIndeeVc1ose*|iIItwo dozen a salesCovent Garden[1? IAm. Wx6wasBreckinridg)#amK"Ah! I don'tQRhim. There'ood health,)aprospe1!r q. Good-5Now-f#d,Qing uBAh as we caa Arost. "Rememberi though }so homely a J$\ An, w-v ]A T#!ly3' penal servitudee~1n eh1ish v'1. IMQpossiXIquiry may but confir{guilt; butany caseA linAinvestig?2hasmissed by&*a singular ch @$cBands. Let us 61 it":end. Factsu quick march!WdK .,AeEndell& a zigzaAslum ! M12. O2=t> 1thec9 ofB i}Lroprietor a horsey-loo3man ^2ace rim side-whisk !asping a boAput ue shutt6 e`!#. e 6TheDnoddBhot a questi  at my companionGQ"Sold"of,<&,",tV bare slabSmarblC"Lefive hund@t-morrowR.0Q"That8l!om!CM1the:Sflare;!Ahbrecomm 'cWho by5ThePlo -Oh, yes;$Qnt hib@Aoupl<,AFine sU, too. Now w qdid youAthemxTR qw provoke&!cof ang;$'1, m }his head coa s akimbo, "RaBdrivr? Let'sSrit stra 3now6 enough.p z2whoD2you"upzCWellD2n't@you. So now1"Oh !ma of no import= 2why8bawarm o`Euch a triflWarm! You'0Aas w/Qmaybe42you qas pest" !as!en I pay$ uB forw#d S1Aan eCffH it's 'W1he l!?'D'Who3 sZ#6 to&)AtakeN'On@"ey2the: zworld, to heaLb fussE!is qW#)no connecJ1ithq*Rpeopl'rbeen m %ie'>1lessly. "I AtellN eEoff,2all I'm always readback my opinion onbafowls,a fiver on i(Q I atd vS bredWnq've losrT: Atown=S," sn bI <4kinsRI say P6"D'1inkCmoreS 8I{!vel!m ?* a nipper? I |?&osuat wen W You'll nlqpersuad,4thai"WiA bet ;merely taoByoura i BI amuMb I'llza sovereig?3you8Ato tQAyou t$o be obstinat \chuckled grimrBring mbooks, BillR2 hGpDboy 71rouBthin volumK a great greasy-baone, layR1hemv Sbenea AhangBlamp3Now Mr. CockAn1" s4s, "I thp"Rhat I$ ! 6fore I finisR'll find:Bis p5one}^my shop. Y little book   !isk 1olk4 whom I buy. AQsee? nC Ais pe>e$Bfolkc7 QumberEtc!irL s9l:i big ledger. $Ain r kJdis a "my!rsO , look at3Qthird"Q reaQ\"O$Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road--249,"VQs Bturn{$uph:dicated. "HeX are, 'Mrs. R, eggdoultry 1r.'w"vh\Bast entr ' =. Twenty-fJ at 7s. 6dZ'Th-Qunder'h B'c, at 12saPo say now? !lo deeply chagrinIdrewbfrom iAcketCAthre-8Alab, 2wayVrthe ai#whose disgustoo deep#qords. A1yar !f he stoppeda lamp-poshearty, noiseless ! w< bculiarԏ%> y|$1ith7C1ker `"cuzthe 'Pink 'un' "i)a#CHD can1draz)8betf "I dareK+1if put 100 poundm front of him,j3man)#no*given me complete informL! w #n m#mM*!he#doon a wager7u1, I`your quew5 Dpoin'=s*d is whd'w gR "is)-2 toO, or<Rreser 6forRclearawhat surly felc$?#ars-s ourselveo51anx:  vI  Hb/s l8cut short`loud hubbubbroke out 2Ajust. Turning"we)# 2rat  jG|)Rof y0Dlighwas thrownz1swiHle 3 u f, fram&do&Bstal4>B shQ hsts fierck3 crzRfigur 1"I'R d" o a-)Bshou3I w " $llfUdevil  Vyou comeV eany mo3 1sil 1lk "seQdog a L Qbring 83;0#2her g// it? DidU |1geeA2"NoFoC1minO9same," whineXU% ?   1ask6for She told me>]s' .4 !skKf ProosiaT Qall I$. & bit. Ge4 tis!" HeLIbforwaroS the<er flitted98carknes4"2Ha! 2may3Bus aU'9 to FEsperd. "Co"m(w7#iX!maCs" s." Stri;BscatAknot#4 lounged3bthe fles, my rQ spee,overtook- ! m0d touched himer. He sprang , ,eH v2as-t^!WLd+/r?sLWKathen? !doQwant?M2askA voice.p AYou $qexcuse Ssaid # blandly, "buȋelp overheetM?s1youE/hnow. ~%9b assistance tVWYou? S? Hows2youu3](M-#K is s%my"at# y!Bu} + #isEqM"itD!arkeavouring to tracVHiBwere*by,oI 1 R.(toRn !by!inq 2 to~/WindigateV2 nz;3hisx$#ofMr. Henry Baker' 3"OhBy2thePVa 1hom #to meet," cripN with outstret,rand quia finge !"Ihardly explj how interested c#is<   W hailed a four-wheeler% 1assX4Fe !beyqdiscussn a cosy >Hr)#inOwind-swept mc-place he. "Butjf,Nwe go fart1whoxs Ithe pleasur2ing"ThKdhesitam1xstant. John Robinson" #"edaqlong glHcqNo, no;^breal nusweetlyH% awkward] 6an alias." A flush!wh%6hee:1str!. J!V, "my is James RydA"Precisely so. Head attendant Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step 4cabshall soon be abl]"te' W3you P  *man stood2ing =2the;B'with half-fright4hopeful eyesI=2o iS"!su  hX!onBvergtfall or of a cataswvow'1ste#in,*in:#$rback in\ "si+#atStreet. Noasaid dR ourQ, butQhigh,u!R brea>F newclasping&un"ofIands, spokthe nervous tensi&inM!Iecheeri&f?j6q"The fiq%ok|EAasont1 we7cold, Mr.A Pranqbasket-6$ill justj!on&rs1 se!mP O qthen!  a{"bec#f1Yes!."#Orsgoose. ("on, I imagine in -x!--v-4E4bar!BtailXKemotion. u5 GR, "catell me whtLb#toe{zCHereadmost remarkbird it proved. 2wonNsat youn R take:~ in it. It laid an egg iY dead--t+1nni94estAblue< nAseen pB in my museum]2Qstaggd!to|#fe2clu} ntelpiecZ2hisF. aunlock sRA-boxl rheld up@;!sh "ut{*a*6jX,*-qed radic q drawn C, un% to claim a disow"T*"me's up,gHolmes qui!HoIy&befire! Give"Tn arm: , Watson. He's not got bloohto go in4afelony impunity.l dash of brandy. So! Now he3s ar:bhuman. a shrimpc  be sure!ni moment he hadmqand neaVallenR$ Ra tin$s3eekt0 at his accuserT/!alNS link9 s proofs 2I <'y need, sCr1you# tell me. Still,#ma01cleGItup to m[Bcase%Bleteahad heQF"iss!stbU/ Y?y |QE who@Tof it a crackling &--her ladyship's>r-maid. {!the temptsR of  wealth soacquiredtoo much1you cit has'94for 4menk2you9 1ere\very scrupulxqe meansused. It seemsetCthatI#imK$ofLBDavillai `$Y"ew Sman JX aumber,W)aconcern&c2s beforsuspicion, 2!or kc i!do!n?3mad3jobwlady's room--$nBr*e*ZS#--s manageChe SbR  qent forBn`h3leffA%:d Wa, rais`e alarm,ht\is unfortunatm" tS"edathen--'c threw himselfCqthe rugfY!at  's knees. "For God's sake,\!he|Beked 3inkf1! Om! ould break their$;I" "awent w9Z.C! I 2illSq'BwearT'll q on a Bi Oh, don't br jtcourt! For Christ's />G"GetByour!Wstern$w Qto cr:and crawl now,!r!ena is poor t1ae dock^Ra cri"he=.""I92fly>"##. IleavA! R Then3bchargezbst himR4dowJ0rTW"at. And now let ust a truez!! e next act."am63oosMh'd' A3pen2? T&RtruthH"Alies! r only hobsafetyPlapassedStongu'!ar/dlips. hryou itx "pp6sir".  2, i5 "Eat ieQe bes3 mec) Qrat once I^3not^C _police mightd [dsearch m"my0!re2tno plac'the hotel; 7ae safe\ &2out^3f on5com}< for my sister's house. SmFWavQ#rand liv qshe fat;sB3. A !wa#re4rLI me amB1r aQctive; anda\ax/Bsweapdown my faceIEQ Road:@!Qme w8a[/Qwhy Iso pale;I 2herW4I  upset b2O robbery:"n %  2yar smoked a pipz 1ed '$ (eL d a friend1 caAqMaudslehobb=FR has 31timPentonville. One day Tmet %feދNFQthiev!ndeDthey aget ri!they stole. I &heb"to4for) ar two ^sthim; soi!up1indAgo r&on to Kilburn6s2ved3E2him1rnfidencc_rshow meQo turSmoneyB3how m &? ))xqagonies-Ad g!hr!in<3. I !at-+*SseizeeO  waistcoat $|a! (Sw b!oo3!"qwaddlinground my feet< $ ccy headQ!sh=IT"be} ! VdetecqBeverVu_2had'"mew$ 8rc 1pic~ 2her]a !mau3sensO.`:"he&"my| "an%it&qcarry mnn}1 sh[ y4and behind this I droUbirds--a fin*B on%tebarred tail. I caught26apryingyNbill open,#ru_dsaQfar adfingerwQreach;4 gave a gulpQI felqpass aits gullx1ntoAcrop0.screature flapped and`m2out " OWY Rspeak1brute broke loKq fluttaoff among2oth T "'W`@u3you?Bwithbird, Jem?' says s.!"''y rI, 'you syou'd gk\"on.1fee Bst.'6Oh,~, 'we've s7rrs asideyou--Jem's, we calld!'s!birtaover y'Cre'sVb-six mrch makesu|Bliket5- until he chok/ !weyba knifCopenO)My heartRwater Rsign z& * some terrible misu4hadTAd. I*?k' &to'Z{ mW4not:G 1see ) 8!y A*?' I crin!'G odealer'sx.? #+ofQA&uX)!otI !as!'tRme a5ZTchose"Ye;A 1ere N1-taV3one[ A tell them apar#Athencourse I<,"itGrand I rQ as hk s<4feew\#(n 6 h61solmA lo@ Boncem"no\Cword "he2me as to!BtheyHgone. You]dyElvesP. a answ&mebthinks6going mad. Sometim= )(emyselfb2nowF2 a2ief #ou+ !haGQtouch#e2for2 I&m>2racter. GhCilp me! +N convulsive sobbing(u(iIBhand+@3 ong silebbrokenO!byJWheavy!Jm%d tapping of &'u&R-tipsthe edg6a table>r *"op@C doo!GeW| What, sir! Oh, Heavsess you.bNo mor5s. L% aneeded rush, a clh!3upo astairs2 baa4qrisp ra!of running 'Isp#RAfterR,@EAhandhis clay pipe, "not retained  to supplir deficiencies. IRl#in danger iebUthing; b Bis f0+21#hif,ase must collap]"#osacommut.,. jBJEsa soul. TBgo w>; he is tooi!gh . Send him5aol" !keaB-birlife. Besides=S seasR1for~4ess. Chance has pu zda most singul Ju#"msNSroblegits solution is own rewaXqf you # D,RtouchOell, Doctor, whtbegin  vFB, ind, also@nxchief fLB." VIII. THE ADVENTURE OFSPECKLED BAND OnX)!vemCnotee seventy oddvsA I d,89Gc studiamethodZm[end $, I find" tragic, Qcomic 4arg ; merely strange1non0monplace; fz"or\s he did  x lf~ 1han,4the/#me7P, he refusxassociatCself@ *nyzRch di4tend tow8the unusual"#evfantastic. Of $secases, however, n2anyYq prese#Rst+'d%"ll-known Surrey family qRoylottStoke Mor}3AThe cY:G ;"1dayCDmy g(B%ndqere sharooms as bachelor rBaker SN! I[ .L1m crecord|qa promi4Scy wa/Ca?r time, $veN{ten free<*]month byXAuntiKTdeathn1lad #wh/!plc1wasmn. It is perhaps MLb d facts'!no* lXFarsE widespread rumf 5e Dr. Grimesby0w#Atter8[% B!th7th.QR2ear[oTAprilYfU2'83I woke one IQ to   standing, fully dressed,4kW 3 b =A late risss a rul= B qclock o' >(63rter-pastdlinked up atK5omeRPdEjust4" &4meny"reKi _ Very sorrknock you up !/!t'" 4 lo#1orn/1Mrs. Hudson has+],aretort4on GI onW4#Cis iV--a fN1No; 2ienRseems(qa young%4arrha consider*Astat \]1!ns`1see 1wai 4now~.{A1wheies wander e metropolistis hour0]L sleepy peoplu>their bedh l]T somethingpressing3heyo Qnicatit provn0 -1ing.4[,Rsure,;AolloaOutset. I thought,{NI p%2giv{ h$+"Mzr 3, Inot miss it>6 pno keenerP32in 3ingfessionalN7qin admithe rapid deduc'as swif.Tintuidnd yetM1fouological basi1Aravef4theF )were submittebhim. I#ly%oAbclothe0was ready in !to{#Ampanu!to/ ,1A 3 inytarly veilUo]Hindow, rose91 enAne"Good-Sjmadam,v%Q1/. 8Dw iintimate6and , Dr. Watson,(=7syou can !asV1Q. Ha!LQ gla!sett'fd sens the fire. Pray draw up b4Aorde a a cupw oDffeel"ob,A"thl>! a 7 2not@"R QmakesBEhive$!omX1 a Zi+,ging her se.trequest3Wha0?|fear, Mr.". terror." She7)1herk #@ce spok#we~1sheqBindea pitiable ^Aagit jH#1allnCgreyrestless 5A!osy !hu% animal. He# Sfigurr ;afaof thi7E1but[AhairCshotG BpremBr exB!on2Qwearyhaggard.Cher over with  aquick, -comprehen: > "You mtE9A sooly, bending forwYand pa%6forearm. "W 73set  2, no doub< "co#Qby tr: d, I se-l"qL"NoS,half of a return ticQaalm or left glov(1staw l 1yet "a! drive in a dog-cart, Fccroads,W ?Treach;s.T qdy gave@Bolen0t*Bstar:bewilderQat myk bpanionT is no mystery, m he, smilingAbd arm +"jaGAs sp"ed!muAno l/2han ! fu'sperfectly freshzvehicle s$ Vthrows upwM#waBthenC M S sit !-h !idH+5riv=W`EyourSmay b BcorrCsaid sheq*@AfromZ3sixQed Le-#'$wenty past# Tfirst8o Waterloo. Sir! "BtandWsc!no5er;cgo madocontinues. dve no urn to--none,cwho cares 2me,Hvhe, pooP Qcan bs!aimSheardjA9tHolmes;J"lFarintosh%b help%5the  o2wasKW"!atmar addr?!don Tv3youb, tooat least$ a|"ugxd}DR1sur&s me? At  7of my power2warservices7Cin a~cor six%Rbe me. control_0own incoyx"ue ungrateful."  ae his desk and, unloc2it,~M!oup6Bmallf@c-book,he consul a. "Ah !IJCase;& E3van opal tiara{ 6E k!ti %4sayE {pQ happ]bdevote 1sam91e tzr! a&i1Q >%Bto m  !rqliberty=*defray waexpensa!to2imea suitG bes}0RI begyou will lafore us every(m+Slp us8*Winionb"Alas!" replied our visitor, "w?qy horroEmy situa1liepthe factyG sso vagu my suspicions depend so entire45:sseem trivialT,{Qeven I o7aothers9 ?Alook>and advic7'"ks6ytell him*ait asRfanciMa? KHAdoes0Usay s Qcan 1#it %isv  $Savert `(>#d  zme Q3qmanifol2cke qe human t !ay$se@+Ato w-2mid !enDss m all attention Helen Ston81nd =blivingqmy stepfI=bsurviv!onXldest Saxon EnglandH ,( western bBof q noddedChead: Dfami4CorthIHampwFe last centuryfour succesn Rheirs3x dissolute1wasq disposWmily ruin Bually completua gambl6$ Cthe RegencyC2was H r2acrgTtwo-hundred-year-olde7elf crushed u mortgage. Ast s;a dragg|t,existenc4re, d` aristocratic pauperS his\n 4"he8y9"toD!ndSs, ob4!an advancea relativa enab take a medepI*n" to Calcutta, w!byal skillD 1orcW$$, 1bliQpracticeAa fi%1ang5P caused by some robberie2hadperpetrate 2used0Qhis nR butl death and narrowly escaped a capit6gnC. AsR , he sufffa 2 te"imnd aftese 4 nd disapzbed manAWhen{abIndia ,v%Amy mn,LHJwidow of Major-GeneralBengal Artillery. 1QJuliaIX4twi"weonly two years   a's re- 1Shea0 CideruS3W--notB1000--1s auD'1thi"/a bequ~N@owe residBahim, s!vi%'nnual sum! b2to each of$ t1 of aortly 8+ 6t died--!ki Qeightqs ago i] railway accident near Crewe.`then abandol attempts to %in in London$qtook usBliveB ancestral8 at!  D6B hadL4was=qfor all=!wa C(Wthere;Oαobstacle to2hY(SVBut abchangeAover3  x1tim:QnsteaB!ma2Fs !exRCisitneighbour o#athbeen overjoySTsee a?  E4-tBseat5hutRup inMcseldomuto indulgiaferociBsquarrelswhoeverI RcrossTath. Violenctemper approR(to maniahereditary3men" ,ia's cas0had, I believe,P intensifi2hisnropics. A sof disgraceful brawl'!k o,#of  police-court, /"at$he#Kze&Tillagthe folks w2fly $s Sh}0qof immstrength?"ab/ Sly unglq-ALast he hurleRlocal!sm(ver a parapet a streamxlA eby pay<'(e F1gat22oge 3hatK!to avert  public exposure2chad no 2all tkndering gipsies|#heu"gi*se vagabonds leavbencampEew  !brL A-covbl &$rec7%l accept in< s3ity)ir tents, @az3timCcon end)qs a pa.D)2fornQich a"nt\! spondent}O"moU cheetahaa babo cdwanderover hisV saare febc,# CQrs al*as much as!Ycimagin wis?S poorT@6 # _Vgreat !inMlives. No servantT#st3 uo 1for["ng!we|!CworkY] qwas buW!rtU!imther dea'yeMahad al.  begun to whitenas mine hasE"Youbis deaS%*qed just!6 #agP1ish[Sspeak82canA&1  4b+Rescri Ekelye#nyAour (A"agI 1pos 1. WFan aunt,'s maiden sist iss Honoria Westphaild H 'we were occa"'ly| pay shortb !isW%B * |#me* a half-pay majQmarino whom srengaged6A lea" 'Bment{4ste e!3 o no objecN.!toZ  dQfortn( !of C dayh]Bfixeg"ed(/e  occurredCs depriv14   i }uleaning Rhis c1itheyes clos head sun aa cush1but%pe lids nowQ2d a :. "Prb preci#to detailsLI'easy for mey "soQeveryc*;dreadful !isARed in8amemory q manor-B is,chave b said,''2old6one wing i!inZ)q3R bed,"in2-Care WS flooL!si -81 bo(?Qe cen Tblockbuilding4x (is '3Bseco'hird my own-rMn(ion betweem'1theC(R out|orridor. Do I mak$T plaiPN#so!ThtDdowsathree 2q^ )at fatal qhad gon]1hisLs early,( we knew dRretir3res}+Qmk" 1Q smeln@TTcigar Rustom3mokqher roo{rereforef1ine*rgNQe satQ.#ch#BabouV . At eleven2shei'#to \ut she p*eO6k looked back'=Kme, Helen,' said she, 'you ever4Jլ,0c0aight?'zd'NeverW"I. z Cnot v52stl'!rself, inOTsleepdCK{2not4why!Be 32few.D,&re( low, clear .xa2er,z0RQ awak6me.2Qtell 2 itfrom--perhap&0Cnext{ xI@_z+! 1askv awhethe4it.$o,TIt must b&wretchedP #n$LVTskely. A Rif it lawn, I wo X"diqhear it "AhIoA mor!!vi@+(anTA=i&of consequencezany rate.' S;iled back at me, !my]a few moments03r I7her key tur,fkR!"I(",". "Was ir to lockQselve"at?WAdsAnd whyu h2I meVx!at doctor kep?bheetah < 5 noDof security unless, 3doo lockedQuite so. Tproce ! ?olMk. A vagueimpending misfortune impress 5. MF?%will recollect, CtwinyZ(how subtle are?Dlink]bind two soulbare soS Aied.]Sas a wildR wind@Ahowling outsidcthe ra1bea+1&Qplash:s. SuddenmdhubbubQgale,bre burP ebscream4)woman. I knew ^lmt2's gt I spraK2my 1rap shawl roundCand J~t#AAs I! *ت[Ta low3, sNnCa cl,-Qsound if a maswmetal had fallenrran dowqpassage{( k$#ed\revolved slAupon;hinges. I)rat it "-stricken,D"knZ14wasbo issuq it. BymS-lampjB:=r opening-AblanOwith terrorAhandpN,b helpTwholef-swaying to fro likeof a drunkard.p!to,3andm1smy armsZ2her_aM" 5WkneesB1way}Qshe fCw . She writhe6 Aho i/ble painejBlimb $ j ly convulsed. Att !sh not recogniQs I b  1r s,  shrieked out a30never forget, 'OhBGod!W !8Qband!speckled"' c,was something elsoRshe 0Qfain +he stabb73herYB S airC diry#'sa 1but4R4eshm%QseizeCchokAwordpT1cal[for #m met him hast!  ssing-gown. We .wq's sideCSsciouthough hJred brandyher thro6d sent  !aifmefforts were in v`AsankB#diRout hcA$reO< nF+#Suv=} 1 en0!loSisterc3One i a, "are Dsure!hisAnd 2licb? CoulQswear+"t?T>"asO1unt-oner askt\py#is"Drongi(  9Gyet,$QcrashMd"regof an #VI may{ have been deceiv 3Was Z ,#ed!Noh:iB -'@"her right :/#waR7%1chaRstumpDCmatcSDleftC-boxAShowastruck+-1ght tBwhen.alarm took place. is importany*conclusions d'scome toRHe inpa7=S withWAcare% 7 conduct ;rnotorio*a "un!ato fin satisfactory cau4Qdeath evidence showedO2dooQabeen fK<1ners Sndows4 b by old-faed shutt)ith broad iron bars$TV !edy 3allsBcare%s9, !shf qv l R flooring?also thoroughly examin.same result.chimney is wide#isKq up by |large staples" c,jn"alQben sheQer end. *Fqno mark 3any$4"ceD h;3HowTpoiso.T5srv(qWhat dovrthis un #atA!!of|IG#ie1shea#c of pu7e,QshockO!itDW76her;e +re CtimeY]7a<2{AxeA1did,!gaRis al1 toNynd--a \ Sometimes !meZ.tjrld talk(!reliriumvFH3iR/ave refe"toAband?upeople,[C"se Fk 7the spottedKkerchiefAch s":bm wearu!Sheads"K e8G1 adv $usQHolmeW&oky !who is faa2iedT #ar deep waters," said he; "praya}9yv$1arr-).|'passed sincn"myR#"A la<"aloneli-!anm3. A37ago)Aa deAiend$omaBknow(HBmany&,k!on / 1nou@ 1ask%in U. His>Armitage--PercyEcs 5Mr.!, of Crane6,Reading. My )/p- wSto b2ourhZ!prnATwo w-#ag-drepair.7EQwest  a wallpierced, so!ha!mot: !mb3 P R diedmto sleepb!she slept. I<Cthri-alast 2 8RI lay4 r /fw5I " P7`% AeralS 6="wng!Q!up]2lit Blamp n =Yl5seesroom. Io shaken to go0!d iDso Iq *Son as/ QI sli0down, gotW<w Crown Inn,$isQdrove to_:,!wh-Iiacome oK ais mor sthe onea of sei1youB!asTadvicY"ve2dwiselyBB. "B< told me all?|3allWMiss Roylotie2not"are screy#D!Wh7b3meaFor answer "Apush!ck}fg'4 laWq fring{ e2lay 4our's knee. Fiv"q lividu i rfingersxr thumb, sprintedKhite wrist[cruelly used.>Acolo Rdeepl$1inj$nA "Hea hard man,"VE"andMrdly knows#).ada long,h 3leas!S chin1his@Y?q crackl1ire"Da_y3," :*2. "are a thousand!Q I shQdesir b$ I decide4ourXAof a. Yet wen^se. If #0"to(toN to-day, Tit beeu #se-tyN "th,Aledg 1happens,;1pok2ccoming $-d3asome )(l sprobabl2"heAbe a!ll^z  bCto disturb~# Wca%keeper now+!sh!1oldcfoolis Ieasily ge( !ou"ay$"Ex2verFbtrip, S<WBy no meansKdThen wCAboth!. /!goqo SrselfS ffcI0CwishA#no!I am inA. BuDhall+!etwelve!Qtrain'!asK1tim-!ouexpect us"Crafterno )MY;P 4 heard a  8Ccaus3-"se>C bar1sec f g place,dP5inkre is good!X#2y m*qclearedgUKSlines:1ButtERn, dia%doxi@RI see,K2any TtheorsQAnd sIG!ec 3 fo$. !go M rhis day ,"et{D ions arec)C, or+!ex)red awayIeOe devil!& E eja(Rdrawn my compan*/,[ our/s^"1 da j Qa hugxc had G1himgRapert3sQstumeEap mixtur "of@!al agricultural wring a top-hat,'ng frock-cond a paiChigh gai with a hunting-crop swing hand. So tall"hehis hat actu0bL3the7!bax5oorJ<qbreadth%Aspan]>:qside to. A largRe, sb Qwrinkburned yellow(un, and mark;sy evil u4,tE ,tQof us!le3deep-set, bile-shot ey7his3 , fleshless nose, gave hi5!thqemblanca fierce<"biFJ3pre̬WY 3 is(9 Appar%!MyhB, sih@lthe advantagB Ms quietle*Z ndeed, DoctoO blandly. "\Va seaf'  >Akind B hasFhere. I have trac= A !ha=,0  ?!"I a littleRO41theRyf a&h man furiousm| Fqcrocuse62misM," continue"im4bab]Ha! You put 5#f,I ?" said our newA, ta'a$  h }@N(mqyou scoCIl! D.3areR meddler." Myr9T smil\/busybodyZ2His*/en3 Scotland Yard Jack-in-officeGxB chu?$! iYanversa#!is R entM4ing3Fhe. m !go0Qclose Ufor Qa dec !dr  *"goX1sai say. Don'"daNCaaffairC$o  a[Cam a^eQous m fall foul ofݑhere." HeJped swiftcward, $DAoker$ b1Nnto a cur$@" {gLq"wn&2Seeyou keepsmy gripCnarlQ hurRthe twisted 1iree Qtrode& Hm!am1Vt personlaughingEam not quit+RbulkyBif hR2remu I\hown him* not much moelown." Aspoke he pick? zCteelAand,Q# au effort,aD!it#QFancyn v Snsole"confound ٔfficial det,rforce! nBgives zes our investig5, c'D3rus 4ourbfriendtnot suffer fromaimprud"in^9qis brut"tr4ar. And" ,eorder "d\walk down toqs' Common!er!op~2get%Cdatamay help us eis mat&2 I nbb'clockz 14k % excursion>!eleMQ shee>blue paper, scrawled AXBnote Sfigur"1eenIq deceas f"ToCQrmine,sexact mVaAobli$o6=u " bt pricJBvest1 5I ncerned. The totalR*|bwife's" ;Uof 11FA, is`r throug;)in " -2750_ts. Each ; can claim an U of 22B, inFC%ofh%t d$if both girl:H,cbeauty5("hakre pittanc7!il:nm8cripple him to !se Mtk S"'shrYEwasted, since i Sprove !he>Cctrongest motTfor d}Ae waD"9any Fsort5Cfor dawdling, especi ~ q is aw*ABing d!ve"D1a; so i 3 aiyAcall'Kb2dri!2loo!QbEmuchh]2sli|0your poc!n Eley's No. 2 is an e argumen"& gentlemen whoOAknotZ,a tooth-brushlO$ne#%At2 weu&qin catca train for Le%Chead9 we hire4rapY!stC innr1ove or five mileslovely Surrey lan(wCerfect day,aʏ2 sul2fleecy cloud0!th<Aaven>Se tre1waybhedgesjxr9Rout Dl01greh(3oot!ir &fupleasant smemoist earth. Taat lea$er% contrast=h sweet[jÅyAthisquest uponq@asat inQtrap,, 12bfoldedahat puKdown over hischin sunkhis breast, bu?$a deep6 hhought52 tQrted,ks^.o N!ov%e meadows 1Loo 3re!!heA[9imbered park stretch Cin aR slop2ickJ!7 Agrov1the!es\*nt. From am branch%aere ju' grey gablroof-treafW ",q"Yes, sir,;b2hou%B" re! Qriver9fis som%r } 1; "2 :,}!we5!."* 'F1,a cluster of roof1dise left; "bu\Y!ge PAouseW2'llf."itDe'$ge>Hhis stile,Cso bK6foot-path, 2eld=iA wf walkAP, I fancy, isE$,"=ela, shad". Iad better ddL5*We got off, p$fa@rap rattled back 7Zway f%<5iHJwellngQclimbeh" DHu  2com as architects, or onqdefinitBinesmay stop gossip. Good-" Xnoon,W!se Wcbeen a"asC3wor3Oursl> `&&hap|smeet us" AspokA joy\lso eagerlyqyou," siL)ahaking1 fqus warmA)Cqsplendip Cs CBtown qunlikel(4at K "be<Ep""hasm's acquain f" sai2and3fewShe skAout OSG.V whit]Cips Flist 1GooYvens!s" afolloweG1"SoTppearHvQ cunnhat I never know5I am safe A"im"! %y+#heS"s?He must guar71 heis &his track8iy Uf up}If he is1t Atake$!tor aunt's atJQ. Now7vAmakebB   !tiso kindlGuJo9%th%yto examine.M'Thf, lichen-blok1stobEdhigh Gbportio 1twoing wings, liAclawR a crab, nn each side. I"seK!4 r brokezEblocwooden board"ilNroof was partly ca1qt, a pic2ruiH !wa little L.", 8Ne right-htcomparatively modern,5the blin< v  ue smoke c#upt4(s,M6 3was\esided. Some scaffomI}en erected again*  2all-Einto"re6rno signny workmen !moWcvisit. walked slowahe ill-trimmed lawnddeep attenA$ 2Thi2akej5relongs /l/1you+/, J#e |,' ' #onwF[dmain K: to8 chamber4ExaOJB Butinow sleep Aiddln R"Pende alteratiGas I underA. Byh adoes notQ/6ery pressing ne5y1aat end[ lh )Zne. I#!itO5useX1!meB"Ah!$isB 3iveq  ~Ais n wing run corridorj` K!. #P1 inAAof cS 2but3o3Too"Jrto passC+'!AsjSboth y"%"tere un K2ablF3 QakindneFo goaHr$ did so,AHolmh fCcarefulUationCopen^, endeavo+%in everyTqto forc# #1butout succm ! wT slit6" sa knife2,!be3rai1barKB6his len 4tes<;DAthey of solid iron, built firmlyjabmasonry. "Hum!"heI^ "inperplexity, "mRory cl2entC  difficulties. Noc1pas"%se) bolted. Wellshall see)a insidJ1owsC_3ăA)4hdoor l0 owashed5s%edlCrefuA;P|e, so w csecond$bMiss "f ,Ebhad me her fate. Is homelyApGDceilQa gaw%2shi72old>1ry-As. A} wn chest of drawers stooone corn>t[nterpaned bQ anotFd8!-tS lefY  lse articles2two* wickerchairs, made upqe furni 5 mZ for a squaWilton carpe Qentre Q roun:"vQpanelO?Qof brworm-eaten oakg2old1 5dis3E!it have datedthe original G# wAdrew!kassat si !hiPq% tygn3, a#%Uqe apartL "Where doat bell communicateat last >A-rop'ch hung E !beY!th tassel((RlyingJthe pillowB1t gckeeper'sIt looks newaL2gionly put> a couplZbYwc E*@uI suppo5No,{%of her us5 at. We Qalway #gecY!ant1or %lv%,'i ed unnecessarput so nice a"pudre. YjnRexcus PcinutesI satisfyoUas to this floor." Hw>2facMflens in his ha  #Aback ։Sward,lby cracksY4J-#sa!Bwoodh Fwith  L^Red. F.1 hea k"beRspentsbin staZh*Cin r HwallvS tookYq!inYL1gavCZdsk tugy, it's a dummy,!1on'aring?"5!Noj!iseven attachBa wiRis isp o1can&!EWhook just abo@L 4the!op+ ntilator i5"owfabsurdQnoticb%foBDVery!" muttere= "pu]a&s rope. Qare  )6# singularsG5room. Foraple, a fool aV"erQbe toG ) a4nto mn$meJ5H, he%d-QR air!is also quitei<#ad+EDonen- ?q were severalchanges c!]"atETheyAAof aT) character--dummy`M|Qch doe. With yVpermissi@ 1now"y Asear*"inbwe inner_" >-)'s/aO  astep-d)"er !wam1"ly !shO camp-bed, a # shelf fuabooks,V"lybtechnical[,#1arm a b%(wall, a 4taba0uI3saf<Jrincipal #s1 Rch me&ey f Beach/ a $>WkeeneYQWhat'GhereQ %2saf".f!%'s7U pape6Oh!/AAside>!n?+q"Only o$ I rememb  ) mQisn't# 1it,s"No| S ideaOBlook2is!@1ookhQ saucR milk"  top of i No; we don't+Ca caR[Q&isX7 e2AAh, 1N"! 7#is big cat_ {yet a ] Snot gdfar inT  ss, I daresay2oneEQ I shwish to deter He squad 1dow ! ]1eat &itgreatestThank youhN !se ]A, ri @u`  y%"Hullo! HAsomeO3The6had caugh45 ey#sdog las "onT& bI))%, +1was'"ed "itand tied so a Amakey5swhipcor,ICWhatq>)at, WatsoI ccommon;y uld be ti*& -W, is it? Ah, me! "wiCorldOwo1 cly1mansQbrainAcrimz iR worsPDall.&IV@Hnow,{ZVyour T?Awalko wTSI had imy friend's fac/sgrim or!ow9ark as !we 1scef: .. We hadVQtimes lawn, neither Stoner nor} !li!tok%Bk inhq^%s  90c^.is reverio%It essential 3he,#;"o absolutel llow my advic every respec#"IGmostSdo soT*any hesit\rL.Adepe!on 'cliance_I assureBcI am i0Thands+Vafirst 1,W,M@sz:'T#inABoth .02gazd!hiastonishmen1Yes be so. Le~5!ex< 3e c%)<'r]/\I CgoodkLwbe visi? CJ aconfinyC2 to on pretenceP headach-e' comes back=n ! ear him {e,SZR6q, undoQhasp,78\ as a signal to u? !th,tithdraw9f$ y6>#1 to#R int,to occupy.]rno doub, in spitR%thMucmanage cfor onO$ EeasiTNs t"e'cyou do-W FB+uD{@8V4hasF!ed% D, Mr  A_eUreadyEmindt$Q, lay`%6n3w>!'sDvP,elBThenc pity's sake, tell me 6wY#my's deathN: pRclearer pN)?sI speak<,e2my  is correc F ifT 5Tk;\OA+so=jwas probabme more tangcause. And\$1you"ifaRoylott returnBaw u dvjourney(\>(#bybe brave,_o""doIa1tol,1|Rd6 soon drive awaydangers that th [Sherlockp# %o y in engag"!si -eOy Rupper(! T$ wAcommR viewe avenue g$Q1and habited O )ofKManor Hoat dusk4"aw >LQpast,# 1hugbm loomA besLg $R figu!ada01A him boy hadA sl rDundo(QheavyBw"rdhoarse roar,)Qvoicesaw the furl59Qshook2clibSfistsCtrap!ond a few+h!we9!sp'upɂQtrees] 1!mpd!liTILlssD$! k0  AHolmXRt togiq gathedarkness, 7!re4EbscruplLQto tat Vyou (! aSainct e4mw"Can I bwassistancx  Gbe invaluabl AThenTall cV g "ki=HB"You"?aeviden$1eenG7c"omUn 5to |"NoM._adeduced a71mor$aimaginntsaw allC4didb"no) aremarkAsave] dpurposaRI confesBmore1TI can|?LtD, toYp" i Asuchry unusuQ to (+4"wo s(Ea rQhardl9s throug3kneKJAfindCbwe cam*csMy dearS!$ hm!in kq she sa03"at!!Xsmells.'s cigar. Now  suggestM !on$r#be[Qunica(iJhe nBonly9  +Sor itbbeen )|a coronainquir ~.E( AharmlEthat6 3ll, iAleasDr coinciN>tes. A u is madeord is hung,GaQsleepTbed dies. DoefnQstrikW Vnot as yetQby connf!Di 2:8(IddeN?I Rclamp  bE bedQ lik t ^1sayl 4#dyA"ov11bedDmustoe same relative [%anrope--or-%(;Eit, G<ll?60Qmeant  E," I cried!qseem toRdimly Ahint* !t.C4a aly jus!ti>U prevRsubtlhorrible @S!(;ha doctor does go wrongB firQ%criminals. H# nb2d hknowledge. Palm#Pritchard were_!eiC !feQ. ThTn s2{5,UՑ1be #toD>b still . horrors##  is over;goodness'Yr let usIa quiet pip2turmV/%few hours to  cheerful1 A'niA7ghtT! was extinguishe1allCdarkB dirB 2Two passed slowly8 th2ly,!stZof eleven,angle b0!sh 2ut zu 3our# ,2  o feet; "it A *SiddledAAs w 1sedhe exchange b words ~andlord, E}6$we9Q on a Q visiP/*an~5 N2posw &0Ulater4outQAroadAhill blowing r4fac8 4oneMatwinkl} # . the glooQguidesombre errand  4was 2entx Warounds unrepaired bmts gapedold park wall. M our way amo461, w 1cheW1croiAbout9* TC2outtaa clumtlaurel bus<1dar!haLo3 bhideou?distorted child,Wp⁢6-#as2wri\AlimbJAUn ran6&F~5wn 0  "My God!" I whispered; "f@-^ sMas startle`IQKd like a vice"my^Aagit Q&Rbrokec,D la1putlips to my earIc a nice household,"#qurmured$a)9thesforgottF%S petsC4thepaffectedAre I"_, too; perhapsl iQhouldx. =I felt easier iMAmind,ds' exampkQslippDf)hoes, I foundg6/%!MyFRanionVclessly9U, movDmp o"2casEeyes"3. A>!Zaaytimeqn cree!upem1a trumpehF, he^Tx#R so gP cA!do4disj:The least siw8be fatal to BlansbI nodd BshowV5heaN s #ou f oRDo not go asleep; l kit. Have(# 7E"se 5!it,Weill si/T%n uat chaiAtookmy revolv Vlaid W Dhad _!up \"neU"he 1 behim. By it e box of matchen#stVsa candl% hpd[be lampAleft 3HowcI4c forgedreadful vigil?h Ahear#Qound,#ev4draka breathHyet Z!my ,1sat)a-eyed,#in "fe4me,asame 1 of qous tenH[iEI_ 5s cut ofFvbray ofQwe wa@in absolut(EFrom*h1 crVa!ܵ]Tonce JY!ve|DndowUdrawn catliknich told usZRRindeemdiberty. Far awayJzFT tone parish clockMCboom0 a quart$ an houw#eyt, those1s! Twelv;1uck d$sand twoD#reO !atring silu2for,; abefallS>l!re  @ary gleam?3 upg- 5 f1van{ immediatelyQwas 7reded by'3ongRof buBi1oilAheat@3tal#=#on;Vhad lit a dark-lantern ^2genNKof movem<3g1henB3wasLB onct IDgrewPMr-Shalf |'3str" ears. Then$ly-!be5audible--a b, soo ?+hjsteam escap WDally Ckett=s instan9R it,  sprang<3ed," aOl7!fuNlG his canIsbell-pupe=? Ayell Yi ^=A. Atq  >1I a"w,2tlei2 glare flashL weary eye l mPw"at& $8so savagelkV(1see 3facH deadly pa !fiKT1loaBhad ceas6 Btrikyswas gaz a [$   $cec"nizse most r cry to  clisten!sw up louder; 4, ayqM2paiy@fnd angerAmingS Ve oneRshrie$y0 +*cvillagN"diJaparson#qcry raimKl6ir beds. ItƮ SheartI,#at,heme, untilBecho"itl(#di0aSilenc it rose. *T?" I gasped!IsBit i cover,"/nfed. "Al Aall,PHbest. Tak1  0 !we { enterK'With a grav`q  - @l x@R. Twi:!Q1 =bwithouSreply w  1the6bed, I r heels ccockedhaaX4s1met? qeyes. Or table 1/8a L u3 Qopen,'  a brilliant bIAY)!ron safe*#ofjy= ,!"YF , 2R cla  Fgrey1. R7 1his=d a peculiar yellow ban q browns$  bZtightly Bad. BentemU made, nor motion}T2nd!~d!!"4a step forward. In an 4his7 headgear began3mov  rgfQo91haip  {1 diamond-shapVapuffed neck Qoaths,H5erp+swamp adder!" cTSHolmes; "= eadliest snake in IndiaCs di6cin ten=A being bitten. Vio'q does,' ruth, recoilv*Jchemer falls Ndthe pig# 2. Lnt(creature backcits de{$ {n removeI-Ato O2plaqshelterlezAy police knarYa happa" Aspoke he?yuog-whipyead man'',T !ooU#u?reptile'sg!it Q its qid perc a, carrb*it at arm's lengthBJ8i|Such aren1truVt0_th ofJ, of#" Gnot >Shat I prolong a narrati;Ras al?run to too gre]6 by tellThow wCaad new-!th1mrified girl, 1conveyed herRQBtrai}Ahe cf"good aunAHarr".!ofV~low procesBofficial"X#anclusi!atok"meCfateBindiscreetly po, 1a d qous pet(ZBI hato learn#asJold me by 8*Gs weBaback ܑ1day"che, "come to airely erroneous  shows, my dear#7how$it@AiQreasom insufficient data m's gipsie bthe usEQord ' 'Ras us3oorPq/,Pappearancs" 6Qa hurSglimpbv w@xQto pu 2Ean gwcWQan on"aiCmeri.I$ly reconsid&my"2wheAever SbecamN.(,,ed an occupanthe roomB#! 7#fN!or\AdoorNrpeedilyozM%W%tY*,d  uA#%I!dfq disco!is;{A$ffloor,A1risLfYuspic71ropC2RbridgQsometl'(O1hol7|2ingR ideaw1sta>*BU31ple!my|n#bRoctorsfurnish a supply')s% t, I fel 0We!Ztrackuaa formDpois  ( &hemical 2;#wa.6/wQreturG1him summoned. He!pu6is  BhourT*Rbest,%E."ty*iScrawlAhe Nuand lan}?bonot bite:, sDRescap&aa week!rx$r>1ustk $ aq/s S si~Qom. A!1pec,1of  V"me.bn2 of stand4%$itr o&be 1ord_!shiBreacU&  ;ACloop4pco("engao finPdispel any?8s2may(dremainmetallic#ng)by swas obvC$caA 1her"fa:sQhastioWshis safbits te;*Fb. Hav{ca$up+"8!knO  IX. THE ADVENTURE OFENGINEER'S THUMB OfcDblem jssubmitta @], Mr.7b( 8iontF#ofnbtimacyTYrr)n#woRI was1ean<introduc! "hiXQice--of Mr. Hley's thumb#Colonel Warburt;qmadnessqaffordefiner fiel& an acut| original obser (bu. e-BangeTXqs incep !andramatic!qdetailsRmay bmore worthyndsrecord,mFgavea fewer="#in?p Qdeduc+qmethods cing byhe achieved 24ablsMtory ha[ !!th;c#ewspapersTA, lu"llods, its} is much lesic7w&!se01th ona single half-columAprin Jrslowly %your owne mystery7s gradu *1as 5new $y 3tepsleads o e truth1he circumstanceQe a T]BimprP04&me"la&hAly d2eakSBsumm,2'89$After?֪,haevents|Crred1w a/!to Qarise6%adU= to civil pract:4had! abandon;+Baker Street6Rs, al %!!1vis$1him qoccasio persuad%to forgo Bohemian habqo far aqcome ande1 ushad steadily incrFas IrQ to l=3t n/J"cePaddington StatbNI got a few pati/5thes!of !se m1d c[of a painful2QlingeAQdisea5Bas S48!of advertising my virtu'&ofM\4send me on every sufferer over whom 1 any influence!Onlning, at$5ttl s`o'clock,ɦ Amaidxl4ingE w 6nouG8bwo men-g0Ewere%dconsulting-n I $ed"lyI knew by experWyqrailway1s hseldom trivial\"han! astairs I descended, my old allybguard, !ou3and,ddoor Qbehin=Q"I'vehim here,"n,Q, jerh52umbI er; "he'sP .!itRn?" IW@his manner :si' <h1cagkvt's a nl '. jQI'd b;Fi.3; t7 *n't slip awNAhe il ldsound.tHgo now, Doctor;Hsdooties4Asame9ou." And off!enNis trusty tou01out2 gm m %nkIW fa gentlemVRated ! Uwas quietl#ed uh!he] E twe% soft cloth ca, Tbooks5f&Vhandshandkerchief̥,was mottleLbxbloodstainv8was young,!:v> five-and-twenty,$s,sstrong, masculine; but h`exceedingB&[ eWj! 2)Auffe)6ong20!oktrength of minbcontro*"I am sor&&knock you up so : >2but-v"a 1erious accident Cnighm !6B I 2a4, a bfellowkindly esc41 mea { 1aidSS!rdC & I(sQs lefAupon-*"jQit upAglanqAt it. "Mr. Victor , hydrauengineer, 16A,,3ia a B(3rd@=A)." F4!naCstyl abode of9 f !orAregr1ve kept twaiting$I, D in my library-8$D. "Y:xRfresh) a journey, I under itself a monotonou p` dd"Oh, mQbe ca)=h laughed %vheartilshigh, rsnote, leaning! 5shaKsides. All~edical instincts'&j"atqStop it71cri7Apull'self together!"~I poured oAme w9@a caraff v uuselessA#Qff in(#ofh outbursts natureBome great crisis ishand gone. Pbtly he1onc` !e," and pale-looking;^mba fool Bself _)!NoA all. Drink." I dashe6HQ bran4}cbf3lou$1 to /sless cheekbU!ind&q." I ru "upI#, )Qshort) my wif $in-3nutMDcBXEsom,my new acquainto Baker[. C was(expected, lounghis sitRming-gown, rWagony column of The TiqS!ndDyi 1-Dpipen1wasosed of92lugl dHB!TmokesRday i,Ccarefully driedAcoll" o @ mantelpiecereceived&hi}genial fashion, ord5nbrasherQeggs,EjoinNaty meal.  g aconclu{ 3 wrexacted?4is Kn Ben  @mbin ordBahelp u "er7 we erected& Dpresu C9lY+, ? {"weyour advicer qsubject QguardfBtmAjealUD!an%Ait !beRknown*d2"Sour 1houL%GQsoon  inquirywAthens!thAts }2out$bC-bye_ !ge#d these&AcarrR 1out Aplanat is wh%ve made you "ha@a human be%kt  "opQU plai Icfollow youb. 'The 4not#waku I 1mak_aqexcavat3 Rk #chgq, is duk6 8ld a pit 5Ah!p carelessly, 'h!veown proc;W, Bress# nto bricks, so as toTAthemout revealing they are. Bu ,mere detailrave tak|, Qy inq confid >now!ndrve show how I trust you.' He ros.. Qexpec+l !n,{8I at ytertainl`C%re}n)! aNR soulTlooke0last long, 3gaz> y[old, dank grasp, heQ a room.=qwhen I t$nk0"ovcool bloodn/@astonishs+1may8,>Gdden>#Qen in"ed# #@!ne @  q glad, e t least tenfold8 z ,Q had8et a pramy own;"3ice='Mpossibleb this< 91leao2one Ahandf\ae&nVLf my patronmade an unpleasant iC$ ?~explanation 2T$toQ*C the+W1itym!my 1ingmxtreme anxiety lestell an" p$ HIU"XfL the winds, ate a hearty#er, drovjstarted off,i b obeynathe le B^Qnjunc-CholdtStongui1aAt ReaY1!to2!geCmy carriage bu/"!st7. 1was/iI reach e dim-lita8 elnB Qthe tAngerEP m Y!noAplatform save a single sleepy porterntern. As I>Qed o#iwicket gate=  *my,"of#"eshadow sside. W|aCA he :w/1armZC1me aAdoor## q!Aopen!#wows on ei_NQside,C,wood-worka Awent !as1horXPuld go."AOne 1?" j2 4)QYes, s1Did you obGrcolour?Y5QI sawF a side-sUP1tep< w uchestnu*rired-lo-or fresh~2Oh,cglossyQThank ?1havqerrupteQ. Pra!MQtinuebr most.1estAtate A0 {fR~ 2. C$* $ had said_IUI2uld&BrateA'we#"go! *;Rtook,7i9nearer twelvebsat a!idG**  baware,Donce @!inadirecth* ! IBgreano!Thntry roads|#no eat pareCworlEwe lurched_djoltedQt/xto lookY/f4"meRbere weG 3wer aof fro/1mak B noVqTccasional bBblur YJYnEI hazarded some remarI"!brR",)RnotonpEhe @b3nelly in monosyllablA qonversa_flagged. Atqthe bumDa roadiexchangedrisp smoothnesa# - a (D  Ded after him, pup4me ¡into a por`hich gapb*Afronu bsteppeait were,o(Lagbll, sobI fail2catU! AfleebNBousee~4r that Scrossthreshol door slammed heaviI#us%@I Qd fai[%tlw)QK " p3awan!Apitch dark i.)fumbled snfor matcheV#Bmutt}F1unds breath. Sb"ao*q4end5"1a golden baB sho!in#:grew broasa woman}&edx !mp 1{ she helE"ve 3qpushingO@5forg"pe "at031shebpretty"ne 2herdress I knewy'a rich material. S`AwordT a foreign 3tone as thmX1ask E%w7u Rnswera gruff she gave3 Rstart 1amphsly felQStarkK up to herspered ei42earBback eQoom Rwhenchad come>walked towards$% Z!isx. "'=qhe kindato wai@Aroomda few8h1row.5pen4AdoorK quiet, !62fur',a round te centre, ontseveralG,Qbooks1 sc)e" blaid d3 B topharmonium be" b2not(1you2n sand vadarknessy   L in spitCmy '  3twom#treatises on sc6Pcothersavolumeapoetrysns!lk2cro:G U, hopIfglimps(( C-sidD%an oak sh,!arYEwas fold&itr wonderfully t37! QA ticj2lou+"me #ag%3wis08a4?till. A vagueh'Cunea4BbegaF'Csteasme. WhoDheseSpeoplvwx"4the*lrO$is', out-of-the-way :r? And w?sBr so|,7Rwas ,knew, but wheP north, south, east, or wu idea. ForR,,D ylarge towns, (that radiunot be so secluded qall. Yex MP$teK,&thRness,n&2 we8 ~Q. I p]F!uproom, humt*ca tune#my2 toj!up>apiritsIz0~ thoroughly ea|"mym"-guinea feeu# w1out#preliminary sAmids H\ $ofS swung slowly > " 1and_!apertureP%S hall O&yGO;"my"beH3her8:beautiful.1see,} t< Asickl8 f sight sent a chill toGL t  up one shar!fi}Srn me%bsilent2she{ E % nRbroke!1ish!e,- ring back, like6Maof a fBened,߆behind herQ"I $$gosw5har* 2me,,peak calmly; Ka. I shnot stay 3R goo`(Do do3'But, madam,i%not yet donehf cannotrSleave[8DAseenemachin]$It~4CwortAwhilbwait,'Jent on. 41can\A th\Tdoor;!hi%E.' AD &seRI smi2 nd shook m&,rl6;rew asidY constrain{ " !^ Hhands wrung tog2. 'ae loveu/-!, 'get awayO!i=too late!4But5!me'2tro^:&2%op4"ad&Qengagan affair;"isbqobstacl)aTh$ Emy wearisome=R5and"n%`   % btme. Wasato go ^T? WhyrI slinkPDD& !mi/ Taymen1wasGoue? This   "e Smaniac. WithA1outex2q"fo 4her^had shake1morvnr&confess, Iu Adecla!my-QntionBrema"M, gto renewm Qaties" nG9Bover,%of footstepsChearH;Bthe F. She lisx8forF l"uplr~adespairing ges3Eand j &asas noiselessl`sSSd comTSrwcomers<qaFr thick Achinay74d g%'^As ofdouble chinf^{t(m' Mr. FergusonaThis i#!aru manage1fR. 'ByN~ m2mpr#85 left thisRshut just Lf/7#pCthe draughty{contrary!op7o@because I WCroom.a^c closeiH6)i6l4%. wq# H:Rproce ,nXhe. '1I e1tak\$+<urBhat ?Fsupp'Oh, no,4iQLR'What8Ldig +1?h'No, no.# i-~/ 2 it3#72min$h. All&! ibexamin4#to let us h61whawdwith i2We"up:\# cRfirst$!T fat}II c him. a labyrin[*![,corridors,s, narrow rircasesQ low/ Rwhichth$ouV genl(!ho1m\ r no carpe+ no signi#anyture aboO2+Fs ABsterApeelf S wall1amp2bre  rin greBhealthy blotches. I qput on qconcern air as I !no\,Cgott walady, u I disregnI,kept a kee: my two&"an,=\5(AroseP 4 mI2&n'he2t @$1a f -8#ma CALysaRstopp]Dlastt 4!ch_"un!ina-r, squarxk-iAhreeo#usE45CsideA ushCme i"'W236now, 'actuall ] C it bD>articularly t  Aus i97 vo turn i sThe cei'/ chamber>Ghe }Rdesce:Dpist i4fs down1forOay tonstRmetalr+1lat3qcolumnsTwater[Mo,dransmi1 qultiplyY .>3iart339 goes readily0Gt QstiffAwork)4of >Dit has losf 81Dce. Qill "the,bFSit ov/!to) us how we cctM;.L!I M/ i[Averyl7 deed a gigantic onC exercising enormouE2. WP)Gpassl$ h&  e1lev Dhichb1lednAce b  h " sAleakK$a a regurgitEoB!e 3cylR An [<t7india-rubber by!her!drUA-rodjcshrunkq,Bnot 1to fill>!so.&1aloHQich i3kede 5was@62aus?:oCpowegI- s6 B foO3 myRabsur" "socful an61b$igso inadequate a pur " T!lsx of wood#r consisK* a large iron tS" w  iAa c."ofP5lic5#al"it$/ad stoo_"ndGAscra see exact090Aa mZed exclamt in GermIP!sab cadav[] ? '@ q "'WwY3 e@I felt angry a_been tri`by so elaborZ#at`hVR toldoIY "dmKyourA,'  I". #$be51ablCadvi1C(4 ifn #th q%fot Cused s#4 I AordsAgret&dhe ras$G speech. H dce set2g;baleful 1 sprang up in his grey eyeA'Very we< ;Qall kfq$ll{0! backward,)$Sittle0 he key Vlock. Y 2 %A0 l2quiHu,"di Dgivef  Skicksu hoves. 'Hullo!' I yelled % A! Le1Bout!^: &cemy heart !3Umouth[the clank_Ihe swish l>)leNaVT lamp stilloI3 ;Q 3the5T3itsIzUblack !omBqu3me,, jerkily!, "neH *"my=PL E+a"Q grin to a shapeless pulpZWbscreamIRgainsQA dr(qmy nail'Qimplo" V bremorsCQdrownr criesT was only a foot=,1ithdhand upraisedsAfeel@;na surfatT1henuflashedz &my"pa)Qtmy deatlK very much !e =91I mB FI lay on<Oe5BcomePdmy spi I shudde2o *`"at]Hful snap. Easi! perhaps;FAyet,&I2ner21liee,1up $atdow waverlB? Al$un C;6mA cau^2ome>b 1ushope back$.D 6andl ?wood. AsBve aZ1hurglance aQ ,NAw a&/2 li AbetwW$a board 4ichV)1nedb panelRuv. For %Qbelie!atpF~door which ledRdeath֊+*5w# I,lay half-fain+BsideUQhad dm=_"ra b few Qas afte-}Aslab5 , how narrow my escapZ Arecah-mbrApluc 0QwristW I ft9 lys*,!le&<nmBtugg 92her7A5eldh+ I H 2ame d1 woso foolishly rejected5a'Come!!' she cD,lessly. 'They Sb a- daat you !no!tre. Oh,RWRwasteqso-prec-$tiT4com4ThiaUst, I Qscorn9?. I staggamy fee5B ran\3her$5the"CaR! 1 la8ll"anN just as11rea@2Ait wr soqof runn=1hourwo voic5eq,(tfloor o2wer&4onea. My guidej"ed 2lik9!is er wit's enaAen s,V+  a bedroom,wRindow$3i0R moon !sh+ ! b#lyIt is yourdchances($Bhigh it may bcan jump itt AG.  "virrther eSthe  E qn figur> ?3 ry/#:9JFhm bweaponra butc^tcleaverX , RS flu84out. How quid#sw!le"QardenKe'1oonUWz"ulu Fbe !Sthirtdown. I cl[ =2illI hesitaoVuntilAAsaviCSruffieVbpursue[!Ifw$ll-used,n ny risks*determin4go A ssistance. TS$%ha<, ght,1ing +!asxyArms J R him#=A him'Fritz! Si(q, 'remetpromise+?2imewJ!it}0! .t! Oh, h-k#'Ymad, Elise!~shouted, struggl`oPw  !. FxDruin5cHe has'!oo . y!' He da2 her to onc3, r"toP!cuM!is.&Cpon.4let :Ishanging1s?his blow fell*>b consof a dull pain, my grip loosen]I? Rbelow: %"bu1-Dhurtfall; so I p"up: !ruFdoff ambushes au5 as~ #ruQI understoo#faV!be5A$danger yet. 5Kcdran, a Bdizzw/I1ick Qover %I tI)B 1was*QbbingpT(#irB,;vE 2cut1BAblooPA pouH from my wound. I endeavouA tie= ~8!buYrZ9aS buzz-smy ear  7 =Qf faintr rose-MAHow I'Ved un#I m+tt been a veryE ZAmoonA!suDvA mor Qwas 86w>oil-lamp)$en"cXapress,a0mwooden walls,=  U3tookSDchas 1you- 1 itha. Now reyes op6m Acrow,6 } Bs of"Unight^FI2 mul$r W 2 a"thundredj ff by now.d $Anc' fear- to be realifzd!da@!no4Bever2 n%M &e LE,g"sinisterVrose Wb. Earla peasant had met a cart conta';apeople" very bulky boxNRrapidMZt   fugitives disNCeven; ' ingenuity failer\C!is A 4Aclueir whereabout"Thv1men#perturbe!arAment H2ichqhad fou3thi|3Uso byRnewlysed human # aAT-sill-efloor. AAsuns0aowever/ir effortO@successfulcry subdu \4nottS!of-fallen in, O MAredu eo such1 rufRat, sbome tw9Acyliiron pipRnot a?F"k$ "ry2cosjn so dearly. Large massTQnicke"inKoe9Rred Aout- =S coin)&u "ma; lspresenc Hose zxs # 7m }r$ wHow ourAa!erace spotQhe reiIenseu Pa# soft moulatold u!BveryS tale'd evidentlyAR,! bD persons,-AwhomICably f+zother unus=Crones. Okwas most probWilent,&less bold or 3mur.!Qhis Bnionz4#as</ o*oNK@ 3outZEdang e5our 4 ru?1s wkBAseat return onceto London, " Abeenietty busi' !p7los'i^aTBI gained "Experienceu, ing. "In&lym. of valueQknow;e1onl!puO 2int1gai reputa e* ytJ'dexistencep X. THE ADVENTURE OFNOBLE BACHELORLord St. Simon mj8urious termin,s long ceasH,be a subject of>  ose exalted-s9theobridegroom moves. Fresh scandalseclipsed itepiquant detai2mgossips away& four-year-old6areason 5 C>R factareveal2H Jl public!as !had a consideAsharQclear he matter up, I feel no memoirG&im%x"Asketse episodeCI_DeeksXmy oweQdays ] I, "shRrooms in Baker SG~h*b homeSternoon stroll toAa le$o table waitH2him!in!doors all day Rthe wa had *turn to rb-_gh autumnal 9+Jezail bulleAI9Dback=2dTBlimbtsa relic Afghan campaign throbbedS-!er101Wit;Dbodyceasy-chairg smy legsz F5, surrounded =jaa clou*#newspapers1at last, saturat%ew sQI tos{1hemVGlay listTwatchahuge cR ronogramenvelopeQwondeaalazily's noble corresk%Ruld b ?%c !epC," I_eAhe eQ%"d.Ur Rs, if5RemberM,}  a fish-mongea tide-waityYes, myc&acertairm of variety," hAswer'"mi%" qhumbler- Tore 2&uThis looks Hunwelcome social summoY PBcalla man either Q boreJ Sto li;#He "ea /*ccontena"Oh, c Aprovrbe some ,B allC"Notc, thenNo, distinctlYŕa9#An #a tDlienO"=the highest}{ My dear fellow, I congratul)1I a K you, Watsoout affecD1tat"@iԒ2ss W<p> n_% case. It isat also mayQ wanis new investig4. Ybeen readi2# RdiligG 6"te you not(It$it\ I- , !`2o aGbundRcorneìT 1elsg$dofortunate2you&@WQF1posv4up. I readn'&XSagony9# T;is always)2ruc*aBut if'followed rec5events so closely,1 and his weddingsOh, yesithe deep :%!isFJQI holb/# i%eLord < V51ill9b it to/!an?  Y3se daand le+AwhatbA2upo!F1. +!is 1 heN!:IMY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:--IBBackPStellsdt I mc implicit reli^'your judgmentdiscretis "de< !edrefore, to1you@to consult you in1enc@%ery painful 8rs occuri# no 3my %1. M+ostrade(qis actwBlrea V A, buo 9he sees no o i1 qco-operr!he$s !%k3b 1somnAistad,pFat four ,"inD n#nom,{9'Qany oQengagWBat ?QI hopvqpostpon2 asU is of paramount imporYu2QfaithA!, ST. SIMON.'3dat Grosvenor Mansicwrittea quill pe]l?!ha B mis(Rget a smeaQink sthe outKCW x#&,"  a as haded upK $ ""H 1nowwill be h6 nEhour!ent !ve-82tget clear %d. Turno1xtrfSir or3I Q a gl5a1who!C is$icked a red-3Evolu E0Fof Rbesid mantelpiece. o The isChe, R dowEfqning it$his knee. "'2 Robert Walsingham de Vere #, 4son1Duk Balmoral.' Hum! 'Arms: Azuhree caltrops Q2iefa fess sable. Bo<@ 1846.' He's forty-one y1Rof ag!chG&$Vj4Under-Secretary#@-Blonit!a  1admZ8 Duke, his fao#$Jime \F3 Affairs. y inherit Plantagenet bloo&+direct descent,6dTudor sdistaffGHa! Well|5 isHvery in all this.#I5you % more solid n9difficulty in fiXwx-SI, "$Qare quite<  struck -% !e.1areg9<G DSwill ua make>Aeasy<5aBa Re3aan ladoaDish peeress.'" "Anbu6els ,AHolmk1bawning es; plent' s/N1notr >6sayh|!be "ly quiet one,4Eit !atV George's, Han  3lhalf a dozen SimateGs~cinviteBRparty%# |p ashed h}at LancaY&$atY taken byg 2TwoNc!--ix! Wednesday last--xU curts:4theD had} honeymoon1 beiQed at6% $'sCS9Petersfield. T1arex42s 5$ed&  Sbride B,Kwhat with a star5!Th 1ishHf9CladyQ.s)] d breakfast?I2 $. a6moran it promisX 2be; ! =Atic, $acXAYes;  "a 4out.They oftenbceremony,9occasionally! +MI cannot"toXa1V s@smpt as!* o I warn yousthey ar$inp/':twe may m)#so'QSuch NX1seth in a single HluSU q of yesterday,JI3you  headed, 'Singular Os!nc7a FW'The famil RRober"Eu thrown greates}*asterna!"byE6and ! i&n) bh Vs4)rtW N Oo"d % GUonly /%Ifirm  qbeen so[1istR flo Qabout2spithe attemp=rto hushA!ma4!aup, so q public? 1hasw#o\uno good5a47QserveBaffe&toel! w7/is a commonr$2for(!rs'was performb$ cRwas a#no~U4ingD Q b fath_,,aDuches>Balmoral, !!, AEust2 nd Lady ClaraAA(the.nger bros i{bgroom)1NAlicia WhittingtT whol&proceeded`-#Nof ,h ;!, e-}"1een-Qpared}S $trouble was ca8by a wom 2nam Sen as !ed% O c 5way 2fte?bbridal@ s, allegkaat sheQclaimx/#waT a painfulprolonged scen"shZ butler re footm*o3$lyc"# Tthis unpleasanDEruptn*qsat dow4 Iqt,1henained of$%Uindis_"an "ir her room. He"ab,dhavingsAcomm)3her~hrlearned[ !id$ tcome upQchambRAr anMDant,q_!up!ulxand bonnetpuhurried7ebassageD! qen declV [ZReen a $le  thus apparRqhad ref*to credit" ihis mistress, belie[ # b4mpany. OS2ingQUhis 8!ha#/edAjuncP,jaly putBselvcommunic@vL|very energetic1ies "ma(Qich Aprob.c RpeedyTl^ !is23) ,1. UAKAhour 4"!! Qransp am<<Athe {!ngfre ar$of foul pl3saihO<Ze/6rre"qd?original$qurbanceQelief0,jealousy [" motive, sh! Qconce % pa1Kd{78$lA"enly onjAitem(e'bpapersaB a suggestive one obt is--Flora Milla3R He has s;4qformerl*qdanseus the Allegro"sh>!kn?*SyearsvKano furTYV% tnow--so? c pY!Anexceedings6#(sF8b&}R notQmissefor worl?Bring:!e bell, )']'clock makea few minutesTUfour,>#no doubtWj(9our( . Do not dream of going, Qfor I much pref3vR witn"ifY Achecmy own memorn ',"our page-boy, 2penY door. A gentlemanu$a , cultured fasigh-nosJCpale6q perhapCpetu BboutmGsteady, well-opened ey\*$ 1 lo#ham8$!mm nwbe obeyed. His manner Rbrisk!yeD generalance gavJundue imiq #ag(ad a slL$aforwar6!opt6 b`C kneq[ce walk hair, toohe swept off hisTcurly-brimmed hatD grizzled .FQedgesethin &1topG!tod1carOqverge o>Qppish*2 coRblack frock-cohite waist yellow gloves, patent-l/R shoe/ PQ-coloQgaite bHe advBsloww )cuhis headEfto righ$ #swi"$ h !co#el )golden eyegl8. "Good-rl Holmes, ri@ wing. "Praybbasket 0 y/colleague, Dr. . Draw up#!ttTBfire"weAtalkr matteFF7# !1to 5ss2can&readily imagine, Mr.11cvthe quick. I understtbd! 3(Amana everal delicate caseosort, sir?I:#um were hardlyaA%# 1 No, I am#CdingI beg pardon"Myn %Asort}6a k?Oh, really! I0no idea. AY71ich05 QThe Kf ScandinaviazWhat! Had h7m#if&D#"Yr  suavely, "bI extePthe affairrm(seBsame%cy]you in yours." Ib! Very(!! I'm sure o1 AsT-Ccase#reAgiveany inforuZmay assis#Rin foYan opiniThank you2allFi Bthe 5 prints,%1mor I2tak6 %"A--th Srticlxqexample& j ! g|1ait. "Y"&as T goeB{9FneedD1dea?supplementingCanyone could offeg &ay arrive at)bmost &ly by questioningSc do sohrWhen di+first mee !#T DorawIn San "a year agR2YouMCtrav[ cStatesY5D!beRengagwN]"BuaCon avly footIWmpsby her sFculd se4" 5 HhCrich&He] the richest man Pacific slopx"And how}!he uSmoney`aIn minH"noU   |Q Then/truck gold, m2Ced i"caKbp TboundANow,! iru   !yo-Krady's--&wife's characterT#sman swu+f8tvedown afire. 2seeDqhe, "my was twentyq!bea man. DurGtime she ran free}8uAwandk@through woods or mouDs?sher edu)Ahas bfrom N&+1ratQhan the schoolm"A. Sh|)Cwe clYAEngl tomboy,a strongP, wild and, unfett7!y!ofGa$svimpetuous--volcanic,E*s q to say09swift in mak4herad fearoin carryu.A re OEo#hK= <1giv,! +!ou bear"--h % qstatelySgh--"5Aoughat bottom a!woSIgs1cap~9 of heroic self-sacrificetz2dis:!repugnant"aher photograp1I bt' {qme." Heed a locket!sh<5uKvery lovelyABzWnot aA butQivory,f$tiop full effec8Blustrousi ,Ahe l&Etdark eyA  exquisit}C gazed longQstly cnq:Bclos#!ha{lly not. 2seeM G %daw  "WaCr"indspiritC N7tkept tale"of$we5ado in K5(E liv uIndeed!, K / 2She Xght as possible--atJVuntil$ Z1And! ayou ob any chang* v17,athe tr_I saw the? Rsigns i! R!se&aCtemp$GjustAharpa incid,Hwas too trivialABelat2cancn;2sib o4cas0 Pray let us:"itSb 3$Oh=)*1ishb droppq bouque"wefW. the vestr-!thnt pew atg!ti!ndi!Bfelly 1pew&rMa}='s delay,the gent$ i1pewxed it up,!it"Rnot U-Aorse.all. YetCQ spok}.fAansw me abruptly;cFoYsway hom1Bseem-urdly agPt;is triflu9You)D+!. c %hebpublic KtgoqOh, yes  to excludNm7the church is opeGThisw#ts0Ayour #'s o, no; I 9him!by 3tes,RquiteFmmon-loo2per()d_ #:SBut  &Yaj1nde  q4oinuFLady#^f, retuH less cheerful fram  (Qd gonrit. Whashe do on re-ent "'sQI saw $ser maidj!o -HAAlicCher name`is an Amer-mfrom California 2Atial servantl 2too5!soXAto m(? allowed o@great liberties. StgV<i they look !se%g a differentY>rAspea <3Oh,Dd;1els#of4You overhearfthey s _ about 'jumping a claim.'];saccustokuuse slaR kindv( 2deashe mea"AM"exAvDBimeshwyrwife dos:7bnishedb' Flked($-#O~C armNo, alon%wa $in4Rs likW:#n,w$3forgscrose #cly, mu%words of apology1he ! SBever_ Cback<BJ !is, cdepose %"en(%Q, covh'Cide'3QaI ulster, put on a $|$ouHQuite sox"asD'Aseen4to Hyde Park~A$ a iA in dG2who"hmade aA"r at Mr.b'; AW   ) R,J'NYRlatio : \s shruggshoulders and raiseyebrows.YI ,Mg<j"--s# +z !1 StreatE!un3ousxrno just#  't st me, b Bknowwomen ar,2. H_I!hot-head devotedly attach wrote me dreadful1Kq heard9 :bed, and,eH tBtwo & 3ows1in privatf#Qthes,aqsoon pu] u2.   "shbwA7.9ca rowdV ! h'iZ thank good s%d+waa +EYes.5F RlooksW as so seriou _adecoyeP oGd laid qterribl{p-%'% a supposit1You Ak sot"Is Tsay a)e'Qyou d%MUself @ ! Ha$lI2 hurt a f jealousys(b trans_'6 of2s. H!ctheory~took place5" 2, IMto seek aB, not to prop\\1one[ 3youe1. S!skhowever, I2say!it has ocX;kS'Ad7a'u5 consciousness7eso immense a !al7<"det.eQffecthqausing Cqnervous*x*QIn shhederang discolour" soaked ini1. "!heUa newq1upocU top4ileH ru_to crack, Master1mB, bl cblue rI air. "Ym-1fN+\1f CG qargin bTark-keep 3Thebeen identifi;aher cl`Ame Ji* *n@ far off-!By@$ brilliant w` e:Rman's#i=) iw!ofwardrobe. And pray.hope to.!At   RmplicfP: 7dis "  !itDicul!ArSqnow?" c `some bitterU "I p,7you are noOBprac\ Myour deductionByoureences. Y btwo blR4R in a7yr. This EdoesDie MissGUAnd hIBRpockeE3theQcard-$ 8% "3not in Qslapp$f down)uom. "Listetthis: 'k A se- K-s ready. Comonce. F.H.M.' Now m2oryXalongJHL'dy 5wasraway by\" ;Bshe, confederatesFBdoub8-Apons ! H/bsignedRher initials,`O n@Rslipp  &3andBl1herwir reachIV $RlaughY+^K very fineQ. Let<Ree it,t!Qpaper$ g$ w&7hisOHb4tly+criveteq Rhe gacry of;1sfa1. "\#is^t," said hU1Ha!!fiL'3 soIdExtrem1eT warmq|1roshis triump^1 tor. "Why,P Qshrieq"you're#4ingwK0CsideNOcontrary,"Xr<4sidnT2? YeXmad! XEnotet_in pencil o rP#AnP'Rwhat sthe fragOof a hotel bill*s%ee!%'s3in it. I"ed!.Y. "'Oct. 4th,!gs 8s.,H2s. 6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s. Aglas,rry, 8d.' I *\  It is mosat R%A3< Dnote5w+Dthe O are, so I t'}2tedk3Uenougօ>M "I believe shard woֽnot in si! b fire spin(aies. <;3-1all\$et bottom  S firsr!gae dvqgarmentB"ruomD "agy"fo Qdoor.2JusH)Ehint.#" drawle3f rival va/%B; "I AtellpW $e f3p "maZ.fLady `#myA2not1 nedQen, any suchN:F"saR! -!Th3'B, t1his!he!"re,s, shookcsolemn["c%Q awayfdHe hadAshutbehind him$hdato put `his overcoat"in ellow saysQ outpAwork94"soUC,I must leH#r &It[% five o'c!ftS!B noablonely.aan hou#re 1d a!fe Aer's*9DwithNlarge flat he unpacV.qthe hela youth whom h4-1him# -ly, to myX [great0aUT epicurean old supper begaU Bbe l Oqour hum/lodging-Nmahoganyere a couplAbrac cold woodcochMâté de foie gras pix a group of ancien5cobwebbyles. Havingse luxuries, my two visitors RA, 0TgeniiCArabian Nights no explaZfthingsbpaid Ld*1ord"toiqaddress+F nin 1ste@ D%ly"*! <q His fe6sw1gra62set H! lp D ey8,ds#en BointWhis "f46" aid, rubbE A"You/Cpectm^"fo-"Yes, I fancy we ma-u)Rdropp %he St already.. Ha! I {%Istep now0r stairsD our %came bustla dang0blasses6vigorous ngaoaV perturbed&k ristocraticlMy messenger 0 e 3Qand IS/"the contents startled me beyond measure. Yaauthorǀ"ory2? The bestO%w 3san+ci!!paJ6CWhathe Duke saymurmured, " 3hatAfami7s!}j-humiliation, urest acciden 2can2lowo "isOA"Ah,n alook o0 9,%1]standpoinlI fail to se_.7BoAlame%anAee hse lady"{aotherwise3her4q method<!do1urregrettHAno m],0+cone top2"at}sa crisi"1a sUQ, sir4z" said n rfingersr BableZ1You7 R make~ is poor girl, placso unprecedeN(B(IW&noZ!. gCvery have been shamefully uskIE1d a ". are steps x1 latpersuadeAto tA len:Kview ,}/+v<1dvok$here who=bB:eRopene qand ushCin aand gentlec?" Ahe "%4op Uroduc1Mr.BMrs.is Hay MoulXqlady, I1nk,!#meA! s ese newcomers$%bsprungC!se*M=Serect9 qs cast a 5ustbs!hig1ck-tLR a piq"of offended dignitTBaken !ckMQ forw!ndheld out"2BhandGMm8illV01. Ic! !llwdhis re, perhapsh 1herOd8}!ac D on} iR to resist2'reu, RoberTspBguesevery caus2be.$Pr?_no apologyc  O02A, I #avu real b%(at I shQspoke 4you ʢ;I was kind of rattl*iQI sawk"A I jubdidn'ty_6Aor s2. Iwonder I 8f falldo a faintJh/2bef@ce altau$"PFlikem+" r)rom whil*?"If,W giveI%,"!st+, "we'vAjust1 Attle$>much secrecy }!C alFor my part,Y4ll Europeq7Q to 0 S of i 1smairy, sunburn,, clean-shavenra sharpsand aler0n Dn I'htour stoL1 aw sR)c6. "e4I met in '849QMcQuiVcamp,GqRockies-re pa was wor<82 We fJo each other,E a; but\ L day father struck{$ch2and a pile, TGD had: 1pet"ouE !to1caa grewhapoorer`; so at last1oull2men)1ingSAblongerhQk me to 'Frisco'k_qn't thr h4hough; s{\m~%reeRsaw maout paF $ "BouldHBhavepahim maoknow, so weQfixedqWQll upTYO3lveka2 go ^ 2hisT#ndBcome#to claim meZas pa. SoBbI promao wait2him3e e2timfpledged myselfw1Tmarry 2<xhe lived. 'Why #n't we be&#ed",'"heq%#n 6cfeel s72youAsI won't your husb CI22?' arwe talko2-so nicelyclergyma?w"iting, 3i]G" w>2fr 3k d!tu,5ent%paA nexs'T"as!he in Montanathen heXprospecty xn Arizo* bof himB New Mexico. ATE"atPa long newspap>how a miners' camp 8ked by Apache IndiansrB myAW'C amo'killed. Ibed deaF5Asick bmonths+C. PaZ_Fbdeclinbto hal"1doc&inNot a wo1newM a=,#moFI"atQ deak,en I,d"weJa!agZ arranged5!pasIpleased, felt all!:Dno mHis earthNeDaQplace#!myt2giv] 'my!StM!if de95B I'd AdoneAduty by h!caYommand our love>!n ip*E. 1ithi!io( make him5)2wif(tr"inJ' b7may imagiw  felt when,RIQrailsZ"glYAbacks "st!meV:f" HApew.%Toughthis ghos) 6" 5hys@a3 ]T*!ey9As i51ask!he/ Is Bglad@!rr !se.? O Ydrop. x turning rounUthe !A2werbuzz of a be*!my ear.  to do. Sh RI stoDservOHaa scenRhurch? I bat him>qhe seem +J8dinking9!d kas lips EtellG  him scribble?2pierAI knm  Qas wrW6 me%8s Iapew on8=out I droppJo{&a$Bnote!myUBturnLblowers& qas only/s me to joinhE O"ig(do so. O J&"my A%w(I determin# d@Awhathe might direcW#gotQI tol*Bmaidt>1had'invG{ ClwayAArienVhP!san'hy1but3getF2s p y ulster;'"I   gdreadful ! \ose great people. %up.to run awaD:afterward@!ha5 /91ten& FutesYXo$Mo9road. He becko mhen begaD:9)Cout, (3ing z MLrwoman )PAsome73 orv YEme--2 me{ tm attle I6,#if # aq secre&u8Hbalso--h 4man"ge ! soon overtook s. We goa cab togg! qwe drovsin Gordon SquaU !ast4rue. oyears of .% a prisoner2 Apaches, had escaped,D,[.m !ndMga Engl( "ad Aupon3! Fut second !." $ia""," %he:L. "It gavname an%L !nor's wD! a@#we1 do:for opennessso ashame{ i+! 1lika% y@1see} "--Y1senAa li7 pabto sholive. ItRawfulX1ink# Qose l1 and ladiesD'! [ breakfast- !anפty#or^b. So $myr-clotherv made a bundleAthemashouldbe trace [D2wayDcno one!fi!em/!is Et wed/s Paris to-morrow,ftd Uood U, Mr.,sSBo us3!ev,A howCus iq Cthanh!we+RlearlfDkind+P AightU[duld be>> ourselve  ,Rif we $soq v:9;"us o6VFrd "QaloneF LQhis rooms at /5Now[ Bif KUyou p QI hoptV!do!Bmeanqx"me Ly no means relaxKrigid attitud.Alist with a froD~Q browa#ressed lip2s Aarra "ExcuseAhe sK " !ismy custom to discusmost intimate)#alU: $is@ "y761form .LDshak b I go?Oh, certainlys#itL1youZ#pl"1" H5acoldly>'z at whichJRxtend 2himhhoped," suggested"Ey!jo!us`a{ BI+&%skG 5z1spoLordship. "Ij3forߢacquiescse recent developmentP"qbe expe9"2 merry overzyour permisGqnow wis aNgood-night binclud3n a sweei&b3 sC 3rooorI trust1you3eas^$QhonoueNQany," ;Fways a jom#  T AI am#of5who.>the folHa monarch4the5| a minister in far-gone  ut prevent our children R Rbeing day citizens!Bsamep-wide country u a flag7all be a quartthe Union Ja QStarsdStripe $AThe CK. an intere1oneEmarkUour *had left us, "because>1rve O DRsimplg *!maSof an#atsight seemaqbe almo!explicable. Ng#natural thamqsequencuEs"Rand nY# %r LCresur viewedinstance,J/ 2You!noZrself at fauls1all$nF4first, two facth++f>/Athatn G3een-Awill>og4wYceremonyelshe had repeoQ2ith$ew.9 $rerhome. O5Mhad occurred dYf3e 2 n her to changmind. Whatdabe? Sh  aspokenn'Rnyonesf0iebridegroom. Ha#n+2oneA? If/1had341mus &d$ spent soM" a"%isk" *vLtallowedR deep:!flB2 oCthe mere2 of.VRinduc$Aplancompletely. You see wekdXsa proc?#exH,a7BideasMs[e 5who"%isM# b= w he posses her? Itb>Aver;aight  husband. Her young womanhool, I knew,!in["gh(FQ condS)s. So far r !go{ e,arc'Qive. = l~ mt a pew,|y#'s %so transparent a device Q obtak e# aPher resorc?2onf?Aal m ,}&signific7!lu[ to claim-jumping-- in miners' parlanc[As ta2ion ,person hIarior lQ to--hole situation be !ab'#elT.Rhad X!ffeQs eitqr or waepreviousTsin favouree latth >@A did " /difficul 2HT held informww sAvaluV!henot himself `9Awere;ck  5Gighe9xrbut morlQstillFis!kn&. Cweeks settlUbill [/ London hotel 1Howayou deI3the2]gBFprices. E"shsg1a bd eightpe;o2rrya !ongexpensive ! T,2are!anD"bchargeat rate. I6asecond.Im2ed in Northumberland Avenue, I learn AspecA`Bbook Francis HJ   x  #fo1 onu93ing r$atries est himU2upo Sitems bI had9Qdupli-bill. His[!erb4awarded\:226j&"th1I t5*KA enU%to1 lo0X7#atexI ventuathem paternal ad-oP1 ou6Bthem#it'sbe bet 3 waDtheys1makpair pos clearer botAthe ]$alL Rin particular. I inv!hi="Pyrhim keeappointmen.2"Bu,1 noP E," I A. "H nduct was hLAgracYAh, Wats/2Hol;miling, "perhapadnot beER?Y, if,e troubl3woo_!# * C,yglf depriv!ta)&'"!nd  e\judgemercifullyank our stw?! e5amecb. Drawchair uphe my violin Bonly problem B V"isi4ox(these bleak autumnals9 XI. THE ADVENTURE OFBERYL CORONET" said I as I stoovU ! i bow-windowdGstreet, "!is~dman com Alongrather sa {!a4ves )Acome.t." MkJ rose lazily~rhis arm3and6# `apocket!hi,ssing-gown, mxt-Kght, crisp Februa DsnowRday Elay deepa5gr, shimmkb;!!wi9dsun. Dcentre of Baker Stree_2had? ploughed into an crumbly b>~ytraffic, buH Bside+heaped-up edgeQN"oot-path& a ! eSit fe]# grey pavemenB/2scr#bu^cdangerC/oewere fewer o#2ngen usual. Indeed,T)irQ Metropolitan St n% 4was=qe singl1tle= wYc!ic "ucAdraw<(GGb. H\ x*fifty, tall, portlyzimposing, massive bongly d0%(ing figurHwd sombre yet/ style, in black frock-coatn% 1hato0tvcgaiteri!well-cut pearl-trousers. Yer( in absurd7GsY dignity features" hUArunn83ard1aoccasiy!"pr"r9as a wean gives who is22 ace8#1setQ2taxp&aegs. A2!!rae!jeg~t, waggl #eaSwrith3fac% * ֱcontortions]1"Wh *Qcan bb ! m F1m?"8Be isU1ingiQ numb7 EhousIh>55her5?c handCHere cYes; Icj thinkXto consul)bprofes!lyha4!I recogni\<e symptoms. Ha! Iy E?" As h3 man, puff Qb, rush(1ourNFpullCbell/!thlGa resoutqlangingAkaomentsSroom,R ges t=b so fixedIo!Qgrief despair inBeyeswour smilevF uto horr >9SFor a 1getwords ou>Bswaya bodyRpluckWOi 1 onV$dr-Re1LV limi&Creas:&n,bb6Df ?h/AgainBbe wallWOb4Awe ,81himtH1m a Athe j+ l" pzAhim Easy-7 ,"bbesideapattedy band ch3himQ, soothnbich he+"so:how to emploEHB"You% #to#q7,$ñ NBare fatigu haste. Pray waitfytq recovl!y fQt+most happ@ into any 1hic Bsubm: The man sa# a*2 or|bRa heahest, fight[ots emoti% h,ndkerchief oversbrow, sYelips t"*aace to)# uNo doubt you~ime mad$T#sep34TgreatU  "God knowsdve!--a5g6is unseat my %P&sohis it. Pp!disgrace I! faced, al"0  qcharactQs never yet borne in. Private affli1als@jo)every manM92 ) in so f. ful a form*A""myqsoul. B's,"I alone.Anobl(may suffer unless2wayUund +QrriblQair."#acompos T, sirC , "and lRa1 acYYoa>cd whatCthatfallen youMy name," answere Q, "isWfamiliar tmr1-am Alexander Hold!an:sfirm of & Stevenson, of Threadneedle StreeFT)BndeeF  1us %loReniorn cond largFtconcernCity of chappened n, to brKa foreI,! RlQApiti}pass? We waitl curiosity,1!noeffort he braced himWhis storbI feel1tim"ofnQhe; "Eais why]&2– inspector$AI should securer co-oper^F RUnder9u;tr)foot, focabs go slow(rqsnow. T0!wabbreathO1 t*- exercise8Ceel Anow,Ib#2put  Qyou a&2rtl eyet ash"2can'QIt is? aO-successful$ :@ as much depends our being 1Qremunve invesstour fund our increasrur connoO 1 of"!debors. OL2our'2luc()2lay]t money isAshap1Eloan? Qurity|unimpeachable. We{ !dogood dealV&is2& !T?Afew P%!arYPQes to*8C sumIlsir picQlibraO! ov "te*Yesterdae$ioffice a$ qa cardb>R (by6clerks. I2tedBbI saw2ameNiAof nGqthan--wWE3 e 1youd\bsay noB %Qwas aq" Bis aBhold;2all$ % Qrth--f.,<2st,qexalted_j%18!asSRwhelmhonour an+aemptede&dDbsay sohe plunged e5to |`5g 1who;)c hurry quicka disagree2ask2'.Tder,'v B, 'Ibeen infor8 2are qe habi2ing.' "'The firm doerm ia;E.' I7 Aessej have 50,000 po"t .yI couldVaborroweArifl sum ten timemsIZapreferake it ax&ofQcarryamyself!my#you can readiln)!stNunwise toL one's &under obligs1ForQlong, I ask, dAwantPb sum?'Next MondayBve a q sum du"me+{most certainly repay +(,Awhat ) you thinkAo5. B. @6Pbbe pai4nce$]b /=*without further parley1U own TpurseuqI, 'werE#no%qtrain wS Cbe "it bear. If, oa1 Rhand, Qto doo1nam3t in justi aHner I must insis,B in 1ase%rylike precautionJbe taken^JNTit so/qhe, raii!upcquare,qmoroccoJh$e laid !s +S. 'Y5 K& Beryl Coronet?5iou0Y'1iont |mpire,' n"I.'Precisely.' He open|0e6a, imbedde"ft, flesh-rgvelvet, laya &rent pie2,jewellery7"named. 'Ti ag irty-nine enormous beryls! 6#91gol^ bcalcul The lowest estimate> d worthNc1 at- bprepar##leMN`sR 3ityaI took>3casQmy ha !nd`me perplex*UCrom y illustr!Sclien=|wB its D?' h"Not at all. I only3t--TzRoprie9 Cmy le"it*eYO, at rest Athat hrnot drea"do0U,vin four daysO#IQit. Iwa pure0form. Is sufficienSAmpleO', am givingRGa proofi z{)cD\rin you, 3all]\>you. I rely* ?Db discr(2`Rrefrafm all gossipAQtter Xrabove all, to )02rpossibl2 bev.bI nees@Cat apNsscandal1be ;d if any harm%f3At. AG'1jur&itA1almDRs se"!asL-C lost#no )qto matc/ >o%imto replaaem. I6 %, howeverG a call&j/+$on! smorning1SeeYh^ 1anx-"toA, I 6 Bbut,oPcashier,Ai1pay fifty 1000  Q noteX#en5Qaloneu 4 "ly:t1ron# 4me,z D notRO2inksome missBsimmenseFit entailmW%re 2 no,e&i"n 'al6, a Uensue3mis%1Aoccu /Y" hever conse*2takqQge of1Hv1toos to altj70qso I lo*Sit upp1saf" 1E%  Sy wor 1eveO came I fel% Pan impruden4 gF so "a A ebehind me. Bank.Asafe5XOd?1and not mine be? IfU5A Ih)%inJf~ V! I E r,Hp"ex Ilalways Pase backward;1for !meq$itt$bej"ouKy^(w!thZ qtentionfaQ cabmBdrov& "1 atqatham, e" # I[)1Qe freIRtakenzbstairscbureau#ing-roomAwMa6hol#meID:qto tho '0. My groo ge sleepeNwm#side altogether."three maid-servantP#,wV# aa"2 ofMTose  reliabil/Squitesuspicion. An , Lucy Par: oA-G22has"be my service a fewths. Shean excellent"r$and has %Nme satisfactS"apretty girlA2ttr^wadmirerG$sly hungG&tK"ac$atn3 Arawbl:chich wAfoun72her&( Ueliev54V-i(Sry wav"Sorfamily itis so smB 1illktake me lo#describe  sa widowGhave an yArthur. He has-eT" U--a grievous. Ye" $lame. People "me<)1spoahim. V}C!!. mZ-Idied"he. "ll} !loD!eae# fade evga a mo)Afrom""1facYAdeni@"}Csh. {Z; 0l#fo/Aof u" ITsternyI/B>3bes,!It d, waywar'ApeakPQtruthu3not^?5him AhandU(of#of0!yoe !mee'*an+eBclubu # 1ingmS"7$s,<&!so-Ce ins)ofmAlong1ses-4q habits'3ry"ly at cardto squanderSturf,F#q 31com !meaimplor!todn3-!hi2low=1tha`q settle3deb&3ono0Qtried<n to break awa],,vD3anyehsE2O1achUBQinflu= !offriend, Sir George Burnwell,!Adraw0D,N !wo &a man as Sir o$ p1 shv$ms frequently$2ugh v T|6HIcdly reore fasci +1is 1 th 6,*N "e-tips, one:Pabeen 2I,5 ,601lliRalkerLof great Fbeauty. Yet1 k*cold blood, farMthe glamouJBhis mcVam convinc* cynical speech8the look!ca!in)"  be deeply disded. So so, too,5s mC DMaryQ}-oman's quick iny>'c C now ai 1shese"db my niece; but0Qmy br/ Qfears ago) Cp;1lonCAI adopted3  vZAher Tsinceja sunbea Q--swe"ov5eautiful, aful managousekeeper, yet as teqand qui.d gentl|s5 be1my }&# h!do aknow ~%5 do nZ %onh!kfr gone(!my es. Twice my boy"skc .ploves her devotedly `#skedW4$on3Sdrawn!toOpath2she U1his4iagnXBd).2lifC#Clas!Q--forM!KYM1you6&p{ who live u bmy roo +#  continu my miserableO%#we!akiDoffe!T drawn<VTQ din cI told pMary my experiG8  treasure d3ourCsupp 6vame ofj.. -C, haKr sure,#-_ I cannot swq "ha"Adoorclosed. =SAmuch Rreste'!wih0 famous RI thot7" oSurb iG !'W!Qyou p&#?'po!'I3own.pWQI hop{goodnesshouse won'2Cburgled C$! ".'$hen/?up,!Oh, any old key will fi IraP Bster" vb#itCkey 1box cupboardHe often had a wilddN tTGroomTS3# 7$gr,ALook here, dad,`7acast d!9'can you let m27"! sharply.9#qfar toomRerouscyou in&sXBbeen7kin2, 'e3musPtioney, or else-Jqmy face[!deBclub1DAnd X#ooSQ, too1crir "'Yesv3you#no"me it a disR eed man!he0x%he..Brais6! .bme way$ih 9notM-it, thenNRtry Dmean},o ^&krd demanqmonth. V1 Qa far3 !meLB, onbH{ X75out,Dword6Qen hegone I un=#my,Z2G(myDras safeH<#it" T9'to go r Uecure--a dut aI usu#1to 51"itX3to perfor^q8!I 'd-.he stairs/w`!he/2 aY>!ha\3shened as I approachjTell ms qlooking3, a # ed, 'did youALucy ,go out to- ?C?%Cnot.#7 b ,OdoorZshe # :1gatsee someoneI k$#s {Pbe stoppeW?\6#, $llu' it. AreG5 is9I%daT/Bgoodh.' I kiss Yd#upsbedroom )#reLsoon asleependeavouJ0/7you 3mayc qany bea@#up5cas1beg2Bques%"me4Aany  Dqclear."m ׃yBQtemenasingulqXSlucid:ITa parQstoryBwish1DRO!. ?4notaheavy `the anxiet/ "nd%d,,e3f,B. A#-won{bawaken ,s(!inC"had ceased &HSCKi(d ban im on behinsY Andow cgentlyF1. I&BlistAwith<my ears. SR6" :rlaR Cinctof footsteps mB sofAAnext( `$@d*Bof b6l palpitatfear, and peeped rTQ2orn D<k' ascreamoyou villain!thief! How daEr touchCk 8bThe gahalf up,D"itSmy unhappy boy, Qed on his shirtVtrousers,Eg(t0'ight, holdOQhandsY bappearbe wrenching N1benI!itktrength. AQcry ' i'grasp and=*2 pacdeath. I snatch;u/aexamin23old!s,a thre#t my anger.X first to ruso#1oom,y !ghY2ron3 of !'sA, sh#+4 2and a scream, fell Qsense 1 g5!enA-mai$6 C!pu& investigs"in iX0R3SqspectorHa constG4lv yKsullenlyD-Gqrms fol -a me why#" i=!my;n>W1rge#;Ka theft@ 3nsw5  !3'" eahad be aO uawas n@al property(as deter^8wSits BeverHAt leastzdmsTAt on_2t &b advantageBmine8 'Dsminutest$'T qmay get4v7^ "="al3you 8Iz Qreali]0readful 35 9 QplaceWimplo+#red 1not ! Anour%of.was far great{kat stake; :hXaO"todU-  convulD avert it _k8Qell $wQhad d  T stonBaund, nor2wre{ 1boy`5oa~persuasion#2oury ats. This Qremov1 q a cell I, after go hU}nZrlities,H@1 toDA4 to #us>Askil(RunravDc!op_0 at presenz$ )ofK4go to any%ehnecessaryh/jAa re-Fof 1;. My God, TI do!g+Ulost , my gemOCmy sAone .N. OhOHe put a on eitherXAhead&r`/qhimselfand fro, dr 9a child whose grief has got beyondSherlock ) sat silen(]4fewn,T!hi?ws knit@his eyesL wDs receiv%R?" her "None sav vpartner*gand an+Q frie " 7's.o%%Kqseveral s0Qly. NQe els#athink.bgo outin society?$}S does A sta'home. We n)1carMJQis un&NR(Cgirl,Cof a" H!sh#oG" is four-and-twenty[SatterSYEay, jfw.Qa sho" #$soNeH#! Bevenbaffect'3n I1Y*1youSdoubt/your son'sHow can weCwhen  bmy ownY dImbconsid qt a conWc"ve7B. Waremainder ofea1 atsinjured6Yes3cwisted~s Ahink1nh straighten itiGod bless youQare dM"ca,1himfor me. B # iOeavy a task. What was hP:+B? Ifu Apurpere innocent, why did hB<1!if 2erey>Rinvenre? Hiscscut both ways4are+qs about Ccase!diBGQ noi ich awokdR from Ssleep6Theje #itrbe causw'"2ing$5#A /story! As ifU)bent on felo uld slamdoor sowHwake E y#D  appearanY !seUrtill sou;the plan%4robfurniture6p%fi?mFBHave14 ofGq outsid = 5_!sh6xtraordinary energy5 whole gard"4s yU%lyl&0sir," saidJMi:Qbviouyou now E 1 re cstrike{ much deep v  1wer {Qincli5@oR? It  CRsimpl;ai!ms3qedingly-clex. CQ#z Bvolvbtheoryj>Asuppb downR1ed,hgreat riskX1S',e"edrbureau,?!our, broke off by main O8# ar3 "it/zother place, <AgemslB+A  that nobody2the# then re9R *9ZTsix b <he exposedz bto theU3est/ of being discovered. I ask] Qnow, ECch at tenabls2But""isD"?"xDbank a gesturegdespair. "I-rmotives+ ko*lAexplCthemI1our4 toYat out," replieS; "sof] epleasenrder, weC"seafor St84am 71, $Aevot ;hqo glanc!C morU"lo detailMSHA insYSmy ac SQtheirz dition, ~eager enougJ"domy curiosity andZaathy R.Rstirrrthe sto?c d listen=Bfessw5uil i's sonebe as8aJoC1fatq.3butsuch fait Holmes' judg SI fel A mus5som's"asy7+ !wa 78iaccepted ʜhardly spoke:3Y"wa; southern suburb"athis chin<rt2andP3hat-W< c, sunk4^#st8 Et. O7( 1Ltaken fresh"t =aglimpsDhope2hadMI.m!a desulic fith me affairs. A short railway journeaer walk b"t cFairba modest reside great financiL$ ;a was a+)-sized squar of whit<2ne,Fbackfsroad. A doubc-sweepPa snow-clad lawn,Rdown 6D!nt wo large iron gates!cl+!th #. #Rright-wooden thicke sich led1 naEMpath betweenneat hedges retchingathe kitchen /Cform tradesmen's.#ran a ladStable&1wasX!itCwith&3Call,0FSblic,?Ausedef%/'usB#do&walked slowl@" a, acro\e front,dBpath4#soF,  $ <$EAlane4w6^1d&1I &A4din # ag>ewCfire"@h Ruld B. We]DJilence whe- 3lAladyY 1 in2(MGthe middle he=#c slimTdark hair8Cseembdarker_8st the ?apallor(er skin. I do\`Km6C2see deadly pal_!in+6face. Her lips, too,5 bloodl;Dr eyE cflushecl,+she swept R Broomm&g r` *'NT&erjK0,_  aing in>awas evid5aof str;qcharact ith immense capacit self-re`nt. Disregar#my1ce,-!ghAher uncleEnd f3heaj|tUly caB"YouqSorder0 dArthur"bea$1havQ not*!?" r, no, mCAh!! I am so sure  #a's instincts I5B2hasxbno haryou will be sorr=Aactedharshl!WhC2he #n, 1WhoCs? PrabecaussZ/>suspect hi(3HowisI help #m+rn I act.5"Oh only picke6j,:!atOh, do, d=H$ 1LetAdropSsay YJM&soQ6ink of ourin prison!O\$0Ablet itk  !em1!--,,V#! Your affec1%fombblindsjawful conseqI>srme. Farg1hust3 4up, a gentleman]ainquir,  2it.FU, fac 1No,&: 6up!him alone!cu/ZE now !?"w  eyebrows. "What can he  Sere? Ah! this, I,/)CRtrust`BQin pr%,,DbI feelzJd truthBmy cousin#%|is crimeI fully shar<r opinionV3you"wemrprove i=T, going La to kn[ 3nowvbis sho! SFv \"Tof ada Miss { 1. M a/s or twoFAPray1sir!it!qto cleaP b3 up?1ear5+Ayour# 3lasz3pN", ,cj qre bega%speak loudl 1eara!"32shuhe windowQdoorsLA. Di fasten alm<Yk!Weev 5  4ave a mai= >dheart?]n4youYQ,sAbeen\to see himsOtirl who | <5vW' arks about_fVinferQg7Ptell her 8"wo"avBe robbern1goo1 qse vaguQgories," |q impatiQ 1, "Z !ol8  s2Wai9ttlGB. We Gcome5Cat. U2his girl, +!aw !I presumeBYes;9 I B!if=1forLHtwslipping[ n fSgloom$Dt Oh, yes!reen-grocer!brour vegetables.1nam!Francis Prospe;"He(u 5lefadoor-- # say, farther up 5is "2 to~O$Fdoory,T#id !An'`4manJ IB leg:BSomehlike fear spraPS's expressive 01 eyd"Wh5A areKdgicianshe. "How d! CthatKd *9+2ing#R in 'U ,xIO be very glaDEo go)PA h1wisQgo ovzP1sid|$thw. " better taF  F5wer]fRIHnbwiftly!on qpausing>*# a+'4ookF5all %Bis h%!ed bmade aPscarefula0 asill u1G$ow5Egnifying lens. "NowmX\Qhe atdh. T-?ly furniu chamb!a uqcarpet,5rgeRand atmirror.pzSureau 4and`Ehard%ocTbich ke/"to(-it$#emy son%indicatedJvqcupboarthe lumberRA"Hav! iikAis i,> &atook i( 1andEF!"IZa noiseless lockv#Qno wo#!thjA did|2 wa! )c5IEume, contain;! r~eit." H3theR4and\E"ouadiadem63lai$1 Itaicent specime jewell^3six -dcfinestBn. An+1craAedge1ere$Grner7#re=torn away 1, "s " ^ correspondORUso unAuly lostw R begQ breay2offb recoih !or01not[Cm of %jTKcwill."Q sudd* #8!itout result|d"itc?aEqhe; "bu,Bough I am exception!o 3ger&_m] my time<*U. An "3manMC `d+Chinkabhappen15didY? .Aould\pistol shot. D" t@3all pFcfew ya. bU8 5,u?" "q Sink. "ll8SBut p!it2 grow lighter24 go$Shink,MW ,I$/'.Uplexit)BYour# o+ 2ersC"enIuH bn save(5his;<VQ"Than!O ehave cA(cfavour !{ luck dura#isyi;All birely our #ault if weCcleaVt: 3. WU6r #, F nowzK9my p6s outsid"He#, xaown re   #2laiat any un footmarks mW22ask!adiffic<F1 hr |at work,#4ing(  x bfeet )Asnow5his} as inscru as ever.9%AseenAa*4s"  H 'byou best by!toSroomsBe/Jmes.<"y?d+2ellC !wrUs~  1 semr!!"cried. "And R? Youme hopes$My is in no way alt$T=for God's sake1was| 7Rwas i#HhousI%A can3mL rmy BakeV$1et k to-morrow 8Q betw1ine6t*-51you3Anot E!atr !  little problem#no4m M!it1a deal. Howev not sit gossiN3herL!"ge%se disrep 2offReturn highly respec2 BselfoRsee b^ Amann8aS3hadK$Rasons.=+Aactianwords alonf?imply. He+ twinkled, c"a MJof coloursallow cheeks. He h.Sstair( rlater Ipslam of SSdoor,t1tol%"wa\# congenial huntI[until midnL' %Asign '#is, so I retirqmy room]#unWqfor himAMy for day r5end(ot_that hi:W!came no surpri "atW h" Ae c]qreakfas%!thnchere >#a GZ2one<Hc paperw! oL-&erim as q&will excuse my beginCwith23#, " said he, "but1 Cour client has raRAan eO!apNPmhF%is !."b after snow," I_ EI shuDbe V8were he.mUought5a rta, indeed, ouri#5-:11shoRby th3ngeE#ha1ove>this fac&raturall\ba broamassive mould, 1pin?and fallen in, whil**oHEq a shad"tegrentered  a weariand lethargymore painfulIbhis violenc7Bfore'NSheaviZ*Aarmcwhich I pushed for?(1don 9uely tri! AOnly 0#goa18"spY2man$out a ca,KQ Now urleft to"elLX age. One s comes closfthe heels oLjniece, Mary,cadesert+ED3youC!Ye;Ar beY ²Qslept1herRemptyaa note!me.R!up #W ld/N>$ "anin anger,Bif sB ma Rmy bo#been wel 5him! i# 2of w<by# she refer*  : "'MY DEAREST UNCLE:--G /t#bl5you  4differentlyu#te%3mis"  _r!rercannot,f?  in my mind,+Runder@9 a {w(qyou for" DSworry($my future 5s /for; and, fDall,bsearch for mA!it be fruiRlabouG an ill-servicme. In life o=Bath,y/ing,--MARY.'CWhat!sh na etqmes? DoAit WssuicideQNo, n!ofoDkindH|d solu/S)dC1youT ng_eCs73Ha!V$By so XQheard kAmes;Ahave!rn-)!UYou w.1piece ancqsum for0mH{ dpay te )_7be q. Three3s2ill cove$mA Anr/a rA, I c4. HPcheck-book? H=pen. Better mak!ut4WRdazed31ank>!de;tk,dw. Holmes "of "de1=!ok>triangular pof gold| t,1gem61it,h threw it downQshrie."jo4 2clu6"YF1 itS gasp am saved! "g"#re i!wa :YRaate as2=k 3hugqf1 re !ed>RbosomT(!th71ing&ow R!j%me sternly. "Owe!" He ca $up91"Na" I6payW.!No0b debt  *(%ow$1hum+dpology noble lad!&Q, whoen812 ashrbe prouee my own sony, I|Achan! lAone.1"ThDr)"ho you yesterdaI repeat to-VlY+1sur Ait! !le7:bm at o let him k&"hatruth iso!Hes it already. WhenRclearcall upan interview#hizBfind1at  e story, 'sD#on k WRnfess " @IAo ad^&few detail1ereyet quite U.Your news$is- 4, h1may$ 4lipFor heavenn"is8 mystery!aGYdo soY2sho(vdteps b bI reacYBt. A+ R me syou, firstm bhardes!me-"sa GeCear:4#an understa$ E'K!anr0 +0S. The-rDfled togeth%+!My,D? Im.V $ -+ . Neitherr" nr AknewUtrue 7"anyou admitted him;sQLcircle. Hf\most dang en in England--a ru gambler, an ab_ 2elyej7 villain, a heart or consciencaiece  7C3men!heӜ1vow. hes he 39Uhundred befor8!fl3Bhat she uG1hisitc devill wSsaid, bu?Ns rhis toor!wa* the habit of seeing him nAever" qMEnot,3Qit!" /an ashen2 RC9you) ! i^rE. Y>,! h:thought,0F`$ Rand t # lr 2r leadsa"neR"had pressed ( WsD"so$+!haAstooQre. SlYe coronetm!wi#lu! ekindle>+3newR1!en*!isvKUdoubtB, bure are woAwhom(1lova6r extinguishes allI` %2sheW<oVuDinstructions*=a)coming down\2shetbrapidl[3^ fservants' escapith her wooden-le T4alluYour boy,T ,8%!toQafter v2you he slept badly on accounhis uneasLhis club s Qmiddlp1ighqa soft trea]=door, so Bse and, loo^L2out3Rto se'8$ 2ingstealthi]A1ongxspassage !sh}/c o# PetrifieC astonishmena !onW5NDdarkbwhat fis strangeD2. PUly she emerged ullUR-lampdson saL01recLB!ersmbpassed,k1, thrillingborror,CBlongAbRbehin}!cu&g-c' Qsee ;f1qbeneathL1saw"1ope" ,# o&"%on5dthen OiO murry bacA, paeQ N> w+2oood hi"AsQ scenE2not,Bany ]%Qout a3iblOL1 t} 4Chom 3d. (A in2was;lised how cr=ab6(-importan 3Ct it rZdown, justg A washis bare fey1pen9,~57outk"an!ne!erdRsee aFfiguLAmoon. a Burnt!toY'Aaway4> vwas a struggle2(Cthemlad tugg*2oneGVhis opponen #th fccuffle]son struckq and cu  Qe eye ]% /csnappe$# Mson,!hae# dhands,Rback,L/bascendByour+"ad4sobserve.n#DbeenVQ in s endeavouroCight!he wKkIS #?"<\& Y:aen roul1is  b by cashim name,ra momen3fel 0Cd deawarmes"!nkr3notLf1trutd!ou %raying one who R&lysNconsidera!au5!5' chivalrous view|TsecreAAna2why Shriek0qfainted6#aw,X , :der. "Oh, my God!R a blind fool vr$Sen! A!asRallow!go xc2! ar fellow wa% i"miopiece were'7! z 2. HCellya misju3himFWEFrriv> house," continued Holmes, "Iowent ver8eAro*rny tracesnj  Dhelp me. I nh!me+3Balso yaong fr!to qerve im qions. I#edthe tradesmK! f/SramplUTindis able. Just beyond it, k: fa& E>aCtood$#Dhose1 on1sidKwRcShad a A legbKeven tellZyY disturbrhad runH ;!to as was X!"to heel marks, while Wu had waitedO g2hadHaway"sB(!be2mai!2her{'heart, ofc # LERnfsinquiryp" i&sok" q?Qardent aout seV1any6random tracks!a aolice;&%(go0 Atabl)n2and(em9rAwritb1now2froy\8Z'1a d3 li of a booted!annAecon uni{#sa{"debbelongm naked feet.>tconvinc w0-|'<dZ1son <1hadRed both wayshsV1was -Ds ov;$deTboot,J0R " F 4 foahem upAthey)R! - < BBootw:!ll)-52way1ing.n'Z ! e"m)Q hund %8r2dowo1lanaRfaced"er1was Qup asx#gh % aH" Dallyj0Adrop5Qblood&,< 2howT not mistaken.,ru Y"an>^ Qsmudg wMRh !be) 3urt1he (highroadO kAend,!"unZgApave *$g)ca`e "On&_ h I]you reme@2silframework 4 my lensfb,$ 6!atZ-1 ou-* $utan instepuet footEd inqR6'en)8 !blform an opiniono 71. A9f;$ BMjAems;+2dee0 qoversee1; h* pursueq thief;1him[yQir unv# cCinjuries'2 n JDeffected\s.GRprizehad left a frag TgraspDa. So farQclearK ao31theiho was it&"hiN!?91It  .axim of mint wve exclud~z7ever remains\  robable,! 1> a1notb!f8Conlyya[Y sQif it pAmaidE3 uIRr son[ CAto b[H"irz"? &"#Ube noA reaA61lov2s +&n 3bexplanQwhy hO 6Wa&U!--Core c#he8 disgraceful  2her#atU 4 sh6 $onK }1 agKm!eajectur,Aa cet#1And!SBit br/e{!feBe? A Q evidC)a, forACelseFboutwei2gratitude/c feel?2you@3out5 @QcirclEZ.s:1ed cBut amm'Sir George NI-JFyAefor$b of evil ;3:b^B. Itqbeen he.awore t Rboots g)qgems. E 'heLhFUb#he sstill f l]  %afG*Kqnot sayFr !ouVMpromisingK"3own4 "CWellAown 4Rsense1sug# measuresH#qok nexw2shafa97 to#'sc manaA Bpick acquaintanceXhis valet, learzCsaK%3*, X agoof six shillings2all%Qby buRa paikhis cast-offB:these I &<'to#c"at exactly fitte "." saw an ill-xed vagabon&ne&?FrTqPrecisewRto)I. ! I^mEy 3Bhome1cha my clothesUcelicate partVSato plF"ena prosecumq avoide savert o 1tut]"s+ !habere ti "en%qsaw himH$!ofQrse, B1nier7ave him everyd O2tri1blu2ook a life-rU wallnd I clNF!toChead8 !ul! $ik h1l Sat weBgive#a2forAtonenheld---1. TP oAsign#*w. 'Why, dash(6l!'5'I've letgo at six e"ee!' I soon g>q addres,>r1hads hm, on m  (noB. Of8"et!) much chaff x _at 1000 ZBlooko ,m"2wasw#eventually g+Sy bed!two o'clock,B;1 reAhard day's work2A dK-&a great public !"w banker, rising. "Sirqannot fuBCords,`H~you shall ,grateful%w6 Ave dYpskill has indeed Cededsv"#ofKd now I 1flyy dear boapologis1him'Drong! `drmRpoor m5ait goe*#myB'1Notj-acan inT#mepf2lou b8Bintoz!ofa statI*!eacconfin?4@_ 1tasiAplac9<P,k@ to effecCis Unly notable_N!he-+gqIt seemm:=you full#%ic&4A," Ksome coldness F epelled begotism I 1morVn oncnCt factor:sS's si6tcharact!No!isselfishn \5cei3he,@"as "hi, my thoughtg"myR . "If I ߲dfull >:!y "bean impersrhing--ag. Crime is common. Logic is rar refore it is dC)B#ha Qthe cUt {Qdwell degraded=&b1a c of lectW8Sa serL4talaOc!or7[ early spnd we satc breakfasta cheery fir2oldHat O. A thick fog roEdownO@!in b dun-($usa"pp*1s loomed like dark, Oless blurs'the heavy yellow wXsqg B lit!shS.Awhit.!th-glimmer of chinaQmetal2 .1had$U yet.  [silent all_, dipping continuousn * acolumnbpapers until at last,ing appar !up&search, hRemerg !no.! v!R temp2 me+my literar0rtcomings. "At2sam!   a pause, d("he*sat pufftand gazing:1, can hardly be open to a :&!of,se* so kind a .0!es  in, a fair propor ?Atrea Tz+i 2galA, a9S. They[ F) Ahelp{K:of Bohemia Qexper5F of RgqSutherl0the problem connec'"it  )"li- y noble bachelor, werh 5areV1pala"awYin avoidi07!at a, I fx9RAbord T(@/een so," Ired, "bumethods I hold BnoveB%of#iQPshaw2(,4d ! g1"und Tant 3who Faver by=tooth or a co7%tothumb, ca RfinerBGsranalysi  c! But,1, i 5 araca blamA t_!ay$|!ar61at. ManQ!at$6!stBinal$qhas los5 Bpris-originality. AmyW#practice, i VBting.an agency9?2inglead pencil$1givdC% d ies from boarding-schools3' X8" p}`Cnote5 d<$s zero-point|"ancy. Readj8QHe toba crumpled lASacrosBeRdatedMontague Plac2the prece ran thus:>DEAR MR. HOLMES:--I amA anx qVnsult you!wh;4 Iw $or 3notzq a situ+O o|F1me 1avernest half-past tenX! iinconvenm1you* rs faithfully, "VIOLET HUNTERR!Do ?lng lady?" Is3t I6[It isY no doubtXis her r4 Amay P!oubml &|+F$ ~$\$th5=blue carbunck!ich appea be a mere whim zrst, developedA serHinvestigation.Qmay bdse, also5 Well, let us hope so. Buj"9BsoonSClvedhere, unless Emuch&,/he person in"A+Qspoke(Adoor!ed %a fye{ room. S"qplainly9neatly dressed,1a b];A, qu ace, freck!iklover's eg>Erisk mannj Qa wo?Rho ha(her own wK@5mak dL2YouQexcus`Ctroubling5KDsure1she&"myanion ro-1greIVr-very strange 5 ,b;j s or relOAs of/Asort+em whom&3askB:Y X kinwshould do!"Pray taRseat, 3Hunqbe happ%do,-hB to /2you^P was favourably imF+ 2pee*his new client. He1verM9  rfashion'$ed$his lids droopingvhis finger-tips tog@, to lisCstor#!Abeen~ five years}2"in ~! of Colonel Spence Munrostwo months agoc-# HK!apat HalifaxK Nova Scotiaook his childrenTto AmericaM1UI fouT!Wout ?adverti0@Aanswn sM92. ASlittl̨saved begane run shorIIat my wit's e I2Thea well-known 2es Y calledSaway'*tUAI us*>!on[week in Xe|! h8srned up )$2uity }1the6-nu>Q"by aStoperA sit- AoffiQ ladiSo are seeaemploy2wai cn ante+B1and1a in onu#Bone,y)s  scledger%!se{ she has=Dsuit them /I!edBT as usualX2#UL qlone. AXBdigiQstout&Ewithx!mi2fac Qheavynrin fold Aover<bthroattRQelbow$^Qes on7Qnose,1ing! %Bstly ) | !ed)!I )") gave quite a jumpQchairUkIB'ThaQ do,' said he; 'l!sk AbettCCapital! c 1' Hmyte enthusiasticArubbXs5$.Smost Zwas suchy1forO-P2mani 7|C hi'KG8for , miss?' he ' Qsir.'6'As? $"ndsalary di 4ask2$4 T"" i(tast pla' ! qOh, tut!)ting--rank!F:,BwingBfat 2out J "ir[agho is in a boilO6Oc. 'HowR1any=ffer so pitiful a sumO1ladt2h !ttK1ons:accomplishments3,My,1be  ( timaginedI. 'AFrench, aGerman, musicx-TdKa. 'Thi:3all%beL T{ws!e ~B is, fyou or "noCbearr deportment<3.nutshell. IGSAnot, 4not,)A&rk61may1 day play1=ble part!hi rcountry have whHn, h0 gentleman3youdescend to a84hrets? Yourxbwith m?+Cdam,AcommE %4yeauYou mayHC Mr.,~to me, desti9)su1, seemed alttoo gooBtrue3, , seeing 9!ooincredulityQmy fafopened a pocketfT\t<ut a not1"'Ialso my custom:ahe, sm"V This eyes2jus shining slits amc&f!rei"  'to advQ6 my!ie]ulf theibh Atheyqmeet an#tl!nsG,1YwardrobeuI d'met so fascinatA S so 3man4wasQr in debby=$ 22!yer'Asome;nTaturaf &hole transE1mad mwish to know 5Cmorel# IBcomm-cmyself2MayQ&you live?I-Hampshire. Charming r-Copper Beeches,Ismiles >rWinchest*dlovely,FdeargyTuearest old2T-housRmy duFsir?i"bezL$% b'One child--onxromper just six years old. Oh, if/see him k/ cockroaches slipper! Smack! s qThree gc 2efo^Bwink leaned backAE Rlaugh (in>-3 startled5 enaturelhild's amus1#R, buGAfath^|5terRthinkWh(1 jb . uMy solebthen,'ed, 'are to10%a5la4ild[Qsole,"my1,' QGoYour dut1" bA$^# 2q, to obs fe might gprovided1thay BAas a@D propriety{ . You see no difficulty, heh,1jV useful.'Q bso. InB now*example. We are faddy people,(bknow--but kind-heartedQ y1ske1wea( n" 0w<\2youQobjec%ou3=w HN 7I, x y astonishG$#rdD 'Or to siNQe2sit@>hffb 4youdOh, no_W!cu9!r yqsJhort*u `W AlievAearsyj !ob1 j (bhair iluxuriant $peculiar tiE! vnut. ItVed artistic.f sacrificing i is offhandI am afraidb0i:" H=been wat2 me!ly  QsmallCIsee a shadow passs I spoke O essential $. ' # :^4 of:' fancieskmadam, #S8!be!ulycAnd soB5n'td hair!Nofa, I reT,\SfirmlA'Ah,S; theTbsettleo !ma! Ia pity,l'An otbespecth Adones nicely.1, Iqbest inX a few more 7you3iesT31ageP32had{F3bus 3her%ja}(a to ei, but shD"atjso much annoyan1her not help suS"shblost a *mmission!ugEsrefusalD2DdesinU%o be kept upAe books?'I^P d'!useless, sinc ev qexcelleBfers\ $isPy/LRarply' %expect us1xerPQselvefq%nsuch ope,or you. Good-da3you' She struck a goD At?Paout by3pagq3FGgot back3Tlodgi-p\1cup"ctwo or Fbill*# It to askLsodHa fool hing. AftAl, if theseNA fad_cted obediw!onKmostYll b R at #Aread1payeccentric#V*ew governe%in5qare get! BAs, k1useT? ManE 1 ar!ropay wear#it!5andj AI shbe among number. Nextv inclint   a mistakew4day+J# s6 3it.\Aovermy pride1r aADgo Bgenc!inRe@4the#as>copen uletter q1>vq-hAill IiK oyou: #/"'/HnearB "'F$3ISS:--< very kindly! n me your 9rI writety*^Cdecision. M i~$2hat QBcome @srcUmy descripa*o0" w*!to6 30DquarVx&12 year, so8QrecomXlt $= R our7#ma4ATheye1notA exacting, all. My )$fo particular shad:electric $Eould lik  1a dJ"in)- Aneedb, however, go 7@purchasing%asone belongar daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia),! z ,t7A, fi.AAwellYn$to4iIC "am,1 in! indicatedb f need: no Rregaryar hairEis no doub?h V i x = Qremar;its beauty !.!ou'5rt f aI must+9in firm( "isonly hope2theCased_ maythe loss6i ssh is concerned,~light. Nowr shall meer-dog-cart at1 Le Aknow2 tr w( JEPHRO RUCASTLE ^i. jv  1andCRde up[?h4 !ta ,val step to submi" zPr Videra?'  ,r F $ #$\@BeQadvis#toF !?",I confess-iE *w! 21 si*Bof mine appl\ .d1WhaWo:!ea9 oJ8all"Ah &AdataVx9tvP&)X formed{VMX{ c7Bo beDone ]Q solu Mr. Rucastl<N $be6!kind, good-^R. Is it not X wra lunatu/Sat he{ s13eep Ea quiet !fee Btake n asylum  he humPAnciee1way"rd!pr_A an outbreakNa1--in factAs stLc! ost probablcase it doe1seebQnice 62hola|1ButXmoneyl,!yes, of c%bpay is-y$. what makesAeasy. Wh4!ul w y6p*Dor 4* m!be# 9reason behind if I tolMcircumstancesq under>5wqAZ}Felp.!Ffeel"erx3fel Rere a" UVO> 2rryfeeling awa~you. I as !at!R4bpromisbdbesting d has w.L;()r distinctly novel '81 fes| h in doubt or ranger--D!! \d !#rforesee!3 sh) head grav=3"It'2cea,Cbe ama if w ld define it}qhe. "Bu any time, day or K, a telegrami#br1dowBXd^!."=rose briskl3herQ anx#DKEwept< ;3. "5 go*" 1easRTnow. 9 !toasT, o"dir to-rnd starSa to-mzB." W'Efew EAworde bade us both 2igh/Ybustl(AIH Aeard+qquick, Qsteps 1endrtairs, "shC#zAwellTP+take carsherself"An  Tto be0# Qwe do 3hea+4her many days BpastI'/Elong4%y >apredicwas fulfilled. A fort went by, U  DXfound>Q tur. (br direkp1ndeMestrange side-alley of human exper8 lonely womansy2 unusual 0"cu2conditionfP 2all ew$abnormal, Qa fad(8Q plotwj3man. philanthropist5qvillain_was quite beyo QpowerdeterminEO5, IKCiQhe saB1Fflf an hour>2nd, Abrow8 4abs8"bu[  Ra wavAis "when I mentionedI"Data! d"" 2@Ged ^can't makJ"ck out clay." D vwind up by muttvwthat no !hiuld ever z $ed V  FThe "2#!weIt@Iareceivame lat* `b just1was_ 7of <%an/2wasR =m)xS3allDchemical resear!6he  indulg?;.Ileave him st2over a retora test-tubK31ind>0>1pos|jdcame  3fasedH>e yellow en6,XQt!at message,Cw it9nBJustV'ze\ Bradshaw5!nd"!to-tbstudieThe summonqa briefEurgent on!PlJthe Black Swan Hotel at midday," it said. "D!1t mw 's end. 6S"Will#my,Bme?"`!upe w&oNTQit upnJ2k ,:5nin*Iq}Dmy A. "I!du| at 11:30q.cThen pWbpostpone my=ke acetones&M! aborningBy elevenOAnext "we1rupon our7the old4ish/.M Q buri^1all1wayQ R, but, cd passtk border Xhrew themBr4Bdmir h!ry!wk2A idepcday, ablue sky, flecked with u leecy white clouds drif V1wes!beast. nG*! :brightlyn :)Chila>!ni1!ir&ich set an edga )fergy. All ov; ntryside, ; rolling h!arV AldershotC2red7grey rooffarm-steadings peepedD"Aamidt greennew foliAJR fresFhiful?" I cgU% 2m9C man@qthe fogQBakerW!etT4But D Y"FWats]Qhe, "i"& +2 a3minIrlook atj$thmrq referown special subject^se scattered  7BQimprez"irqHy. IJmdthoughK2com-mair isol" a2!thAunit+"h Tcrime=!Atted "re!"Ghdueavens!c. "WhoTassociateQ{ these dear old homesteads?"lways fi;fcertain horroraibelief,  8o X ,4 5and vilest'!ey FLondFpresent a more dreadful recorL1sinnthe smil .HifulK1Yourify me!(robvious9!ur public opinion8""doi"1e t;>)1 laA7note3S'no lane so33 of a tortured child, orjCthudqdrunkard's blow,Rget sympathycindignAmongp neighbour72thechinery of%-!ic sso clos$aof com?Qt cansit goin?|"isa,a step betwe}"+R dock<Alone@Ruses,OHown fields,!ed= !stu3! 3poor ignorant folk(GSThinka deedy2helAbrueltyahidden wickednessqmay go year in, 1outE=% /o!thA0aer. Has'yaappeal!usBhelpn.T>Wve in 5, ICneveA5had a fearE j0p"ke'Adang;Atillis clearshe is noteBthreatened!No ;aan comG#Bet u^wqcan getDQ"soV<1hassfreedom$BRCAN bgmVan? Can suggest nod[!I Adevi se0#of75 cAfact.3farBthem6KsKbcorrecuoUCe9binformK!we*bll no 7Sfind k Bus. Aowerdathedr_2we Wsoon learn all#AHunt|GBtellT iC inn of reputthe High, at no di2t, F, "Shqengagedt:3roo]hunch awaZd"us%&3ablDQso de:  !atcD!coNs|id earnests~ "kinyou both;{ kindeed0!!doP r advicesZbe altogether invalug.>Cbell usUCappea&C""IX  "beEh$=dlto be backthree. I]3hisct|;1 t\4his q$hek rdpurposLW ddue order."c Sthrusdqin legs5 "to:Hr 7DQsten. I>Rfirst2, IX:"ayG=Dmet,),no actual ill-treatmen 1Mr.6Mrs only fair$Em toy'2the! =notQ"ck QcSTheir cconduc3yous!itpj9as it occurred. WPUj m" aand da#w K7F!, sr said, ifully situated,& $]elf, for$a large square bloca %dtewash\all staine streaAdampbad weat^Qare gB1s  it, woodspqree sid"nde fourth a  slopes doASouthampton highroadch curves past2% 5rf yardstAdoor s3 incbelongh$he-bBall 01are* of Lord Rertonserves. A clump 1bee*immediately in  ds'U2itsMES rbdrivenSby myD1er, was as amia !wa18Rroduc2himF"ev.!to) achild.!re"no^2iconjecture-#C usk#!ir rooms at 5 mad. I fh !belent, pale-"t,^@!an husband,!moan thirty,1oulo 1nk,63le k hardly be l?%ny-five. F,Air Z "MDonceEsurprise  in tears0asometiahat it%isP!of-yTweigh1her Amet so utterly spois>Qnd so nCd a $crH]!sm1for3ageTa hea"isdroport c. HisBlife!rAspenan alternAbetw?:savage fit'bgloomy.&1val sulking. Giv#1pai5anyU weak}imself seeme idea of?zthe showremarkable talQplannqthe capof mice,wRbirdsUrinsectsZI`1 rBtalk~ 7  6Dy, he hasmQDmsLB 1gla:all details,"&edj#R, "whi-%qrelevan"Qnot."I "trto miss anof importaG#ThE1$unE )'`j $ch7m>once, wax9!an5duc S[sun only two, a manVife. TollerK!is+name, is a rough, uncouth manFgrizzled&C$Thiskea perpetuTmell of drink. Twice9bbCRquite A yet4heatake n%!ic$it!ifaAtallbstrongkRa sou-,T ; asG and much , !4ia mostA, bu'"tu3 I spend1R of m) nursery4:#arf{3corVqthe bui]qsFor two&fter my arriva t62 my very quiet; kthird,. k& d"F3peru/-@'Oh, yes(BstreBD al"teaa seri3fun1stom1Clisttcannot ehow comical he was IIRuntil aweary.p4:evidently noH#of3, 1tas smils%Ath h{4nds_,2lapPa sad, &< VAfter+r suddenly F} i1comyB,R day9IUIQchang`/Jgo>REdwar*XT6psame per!nc hO q exactZmilar83a. AgaiW,Ka I saz Bndow heartilyeVfunny#of an immense répertoir?<6inimitablyn !!me4qllow-baB&Qnovel moving my  tsidewaycshadowtnot fa'the page, he beg;: read alou( bhim. ISfor !si  0a chapterV thenQmiddlNa sentenc"ord*#toit easily$5how curious I zs to wh rmeaning!isaordinary#Qy be\#[xcareful.,!ur#CfaceW'"soEdconsumP82seeaTEing 6ysack. Ati7ecbe imeI soonla means. My hand-mirro brokenthought seized mI+=aA pie DAglas)mhkerchief. O1nex_XasionOBst  I K.e#evm"perceive)g standn"Ro small bearded man in a )"su{  ?JW my directT!ad5nvt highwx!er B usbpeopleb. ThiscCas l@Qe ra&sbSEield1 up1lowi ;PJ Heyes fix"me  0sing gaz ,%Qconviss<ad divi 3 in my hanhad seen#SsY. t'JephroEashe, 'QertinRellowLo?%!er7!es= tZ".'l#No5! od )rsa?' he QNo, IN+2 nozsPsYDear me! How! Kindlyroh6ato hi"go$aSurelytould be gRSw_2uldshim loi3@.7away likeha ~< linstanDdrew2"he". 0reek agoQfx"atb  o&3sat  n2Bve IRhu|!ss ! 4thezP #adi#e2Holmes. "Your narrativ2misY,Cbe aLW2est&eZ2You.!ra)disconnected, I fear8g 9relWbdifferHcidents of"ch%ak4verd" Copper [X A too24to 1out1stau n8(e kitchen door7we approached ik1ear" sharp rattlM "in%XI aEranimal a CLook* e!' saidAshow e a slitR two planks. 'Is he^a""y?I$w Xo9!sc& of two glk*of a vagu]a huddlUdarkn 'Don't be frighWT , 6Vstart2had c. 'It'~Carlo, my mastiff.dA him)DL!re*5oldBmy gi(1man can do im. We feedc2onc>yD"ooWtthen, */as keen as mustard.Q lets]loose e CnighGod helpTtrespasser whom J,y fangs upon. For goodness'r! d1you y pretext sebr fooMrqhresholX<$'"asGlife is worthqThe warr  A idlK2two}9CqI happe1o -!out my bedroomkK!mot3. 2iful moonligh1law\## Iav1 Aover_ almost as bq as dayuAas y.5rapqpeacefu~ !ut/CFcene9!as4 uhITJ=$# >$it emerg5$moonshine I sa)S3. I a giant dog, ass a calf, tawny tintedAhang;jowl, black muzzl huge projecqbones. lked slowly and vanisW 1. dreadful2ine ecl, Rheart*\any burg BdonesAnd now*" a ystrange:?o*2youadj@5cdtin Londz,+,i]a great coirbottom 6Atrunyyna} QchildBin b Bbega5mus[rby exam;b<cfurnit21my !an&Rrearr?sG !ascbld che 1dran?w -wo upper ones empt Bopen$ one lockedl13theVsmy linef Z t4uch to pack. s! |bannoye5$otbtthe use pt struc@asbeen fa&by a mere overs1b so I obunch of key2tri open it. The first key fitt'Bperf&3I d_:Q openF"re.Aonlypx* 3sur3youY cB gu2"myrof hairj<!ed:naculiar4, Bthic t=%6ili obtrudq!~1me. [i3Q in 1? W:Arembc hands I undiF, turned.content p9" I>B trVstogethe H$Uidentical. Was i H1? PLAQDq at alRmeanttXBNeI saidYBmatt)the RucastleTI felp8i!wrEySing a%j)2d 6am #ob!?1youw/qremarke*. 2oon !ty T plan*PY headO!ongU vx be inhabit]btTA% 31facQ a%l_quarters ofa"s=)sis suitn#2driablyR Oneq a6H> ;met21com %utz}Qdoor,7 'Qhand,Ha9 on his face R4him|6hund, jovi}2 to Iaccustomed. HisÄ"ksa1redb brow/ll crinkl4angtins stood"atEtemples 2pasWH 8.qand hurrpast meout a worPGBlookaarouse curiosity, so when I wentQfor a` # 0my charge, I strom9IVBside-! 78l ais par9 #th##. fQere f HmCrow,simply dirty3"le0@1utt !upi*_all deserted I>2oet them \ally,1amedeto me,as merry!as.$Ah|Qhe, '"usW me rude if I|B'athis \1tal$%)!'sǤUinct;G!$ "<8wm any rate=w|%re wAV ElookSn8!nc\Dpass"rb6?I_ yesterday1thexRce cau5may%, besidesd, bothH"is3GfindCcto do%se  I once saw him carryw S" JB bag=0Aroug B RecxAhe hen drinkF#ar 5!hevery drunk;Ecwhen 8qupstairq[eR oDJ> Qd lef .`2'1wer rh down~;: an admir(opportunitm Rkey g< lock, open7 }Qslipp~i&as0apassagbme, unpap9"runcarpeLDhichSat a gCngle farther end. Round +8Adoor a,P3fir|+ :Hy ea 2an rroom, dus~ cheerless3two}t/S,a, so 2dir Qglimm:2dimAAough} mb centrSclose[1out_ v)[ hadsohe broad ba a an ir"bd, padone end tot\l$oostout corO!Ok3was( 5-Z barricadedLcorrespoM rclearlyu!thA Y %j5yetmRsee b l beneath i&inG% E* Ra sky!le7RaboveQ  $ s1gazFtsinister2ond1 5Bit ,veil, I suddp#ofV!wi?om and saw a,!owF $1warB for Rgains< ! cof dim7!shuu1A m"qunreasoterror rosemDDy Holmes. My overstrung n-=! oWAvento#qhim frei"Qsafet lay awake2the#! ip%jo'2cof see2.  0|5 inrGK lOShis # $ back befo#2$* ,]Hoen a vi5(bŽ"thl%Hning"Flook!N!fSmy ads $sh<+4gla"ldem0!itBmean, T all,T do." #li) aspellbK*isA sto4My friend 1nowOp!up  ,- i*ڄq an expg oSmost pro;gravity upoB$fa-$Is)+?""-!Ye  x7 Qt!doO%'L"-$#is"AnYRucastlesqS%ute?62Yes!"Ire a cella" aE;Flock:b wine-3K1You>3 to*4(K<a) Btter,-aTq braveyle girl< @k2you*# 61 onW'ue feat?Qask i$2you !di" y Syou aexceptionalt?I!trj#it'W%11 Co#,R by s!'cAq and I ocbe gonQat ti$nd will, we hope, be incapablY#erR*qremainsq9=V3 ga alarm:h 2her>!onCR errln"keD !X#facilitate s7*lyuSdo itExcellent! v#1thouLUe affair B feaT:b\f !reh%:1ate#on?(`3eal is impriso 2chaxYA 1who)# ;]r is,t$iJGXAliceb;b 'zCto ”were chosen, Leas res#$- height, - &Jk2! hUHers cut off,.$nA ill 1she`qUso, o i to be sacrificed also. By a8bchance%BcameJ%her tresses5"oa !un! Aedlyeehers--her fiancé--a)^Z7bre th&"'suR"so_h 4 uyour l"Awhenv!he 4Bfter>9a gestus{H'ly happyK,!sh|) " 59attentionHdog is letz.# a -qrevent J om endeavou Usmunicat her. So much is fairly clearbost se:%8qYaisposi4"of fon earth(atHit?" I ejacula10aWatson,1medT?yman arefL!ga*" ka2:'endencieFa% Ase studyC parents. Don'XmQonverzYA equ@*2valhave frequBgainm#Rfirst:inscharacter1tudRtheir3reni)'sis abnormacruel,z*bly forAty'sh01whet?aerivese7 1smi(OPsuspect, or !otuit bodes evilthe poors who is\ir powerD71yourAA," c %our client. "Asc3com   make me certamm!bhit it$let us lose not h"inKaelp toM s"We be circumECfor G1deaua Acunnsman. We3  W 1hou]shall b"it V qwe solv'W=wFh2ordqRl&we reach  ,-put up our trapUwayside public-hous group of tree@BdarkEs sh,ke burnish(3tal H# s*sun, were suffici=FmarkB 2hadBHunt9 j2\o)door-stepH1Havh=d1R  G(A loud thudding nois!somewhere 3. "f BTollellar," said she. "HI lies snoro57rug. Her)'!chuplicates of=' 2You d+ell indeed!enthusiasm. "Now lea~ #wa~:2allk"is2&!We R79o"unB*followed onp% arOS"lvyb 6the cMiss Daescrib*A cut3cor2emor?e transbCt7bthe vac+1thes, but  success. No s Katsilence'Cclouded ov/cI trusnot too latR;!I  ,#we. \g#1you,W1putrer to it)%ee%wt2not7our way in'$an old rickety+V%tat once]our united_*ength. T/% w YBemptE"re6no 3sRpallet bed,};4tab5a basketful of linpe"wa'.+Dthe b gonen$ villainy here`2; "h7! [YuesseG&#  Shas c6Yhis victim offCow?"2 3. Wghow he}." He swutDup o[roof. "ANB" he, "here': # agjbladder ae eave _Udid #im= X}]eeqwas not Ae9 .CawayBHD 2and!itE3ellQat hehr cleverimdangerous C q V"if q he whose step I hear nowFhinkQit wPb2wel your pistol read1ThesL!lyZ!of$ mpS0 a 'ah% fburly man,aa heavIaick inkYhand.Xscreamed !shGU wala8 m Sherlockv sprang"qnd con!edm=G4You!)7nk"'sL~{The fat man castBeyes|_O1n u "th&% {Peto ask}vQshrie3"hieves! Spiesb caught you,uCI? Yv jpower. I'll ser T!" He5aand cl4"ed2s a2e c5"go/BHe's* 5dog/my revolve I!Bc !thrd was af3 2usbE`ming forward1askU2allEBgivegthen 4$!it&7\a stop oyBRHe wa 'a sign6per#Nqor not, !us r money. When1oul21kepE O1she#A-fevnwsix weeksPt death'snB+ at last,worn to aFVher mAhair2offi`!nogJ ?Ryoung |*Qstucket1tru3man9b$AhRy=been good)q1mak~AbfairlydInReduceN%lremaint6I presume, toothis systemc 4men<"=DAnd h   London in ord get rid of qisagreeJ6qpersist'yroawas it;)Bub_'a "ev2 %as?$eaman sh)be, blockad1 d "mejteded by arguments, metallic or otherwise, i"vi> $ cP!amd3his9kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman Ndserene /!An, t%(ay\LByour7qno wan956ah3 be1mom"Bwhenmaster hado3outY3, A hap ,g1 ow< an apolog? o2"fo|v Ypu d us. AndSe comyqsurgeon E (4, F;st escorng *2, hmour locus standix s rather a question#on'uCsolv&q! o R sini3ousGtNSpper FMA in 8Kdoorsurvived'>*[a brokenAaliv 5elyd#rthe carm,his devoted wifefG2>>their old.who probTEcknow s!%of("'s/3liflhe finds it 5art mn nOX # , by special licenZYV&ay}+bir fl!isthe hold vernment ap  "inBislaqMauriticViolet4'  i!tof5'isf, manifested*tis2heronce she+bceasedr+ :of one MsproblemX+s!ea a private school at Wals9,ere I beliew 1has: GconsiderE0S ENthe Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ad.Ls ofV Arthur Conan Doyle *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES ***Q1** FGfilenamed 1661-8.txt orazip **B:"anz+associated filfformat_*fHcin: http://www.g9 .org/1/6/6/1661/ ProduconymouswsvolunteJose Menendez Updej*!reA}qpreviouD!--(l0! 1 0. CreatingARworks!public domain printzRmeansV Ano :qwns a U States copyr0Cthescuthe Foundation (an!!)V Acopy distribute it! h,"mi.8gpayingroyalties. 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OnBlockDone func(size int) buf [19]byte // magic number(4) + header(flags(2)+[Size(8)+DictID(4)]+checksum(1)) does not exceed 19 bytes dst io.Writer // Destination. checksum xxh32.XXHZero // Frame checksum. data []byte // Data to be compressed + buffer for compressed data. idx int // Index into data. hashtable [winSize]int // Hash table used in CompressBlock(). // For concurrency. c chan chan zResult // Channel for block compression goroutines and writer goroutine. err error // Any error encountered while writing to the underlying destination. } // NewWriter returns a new LZ4 frame encoder. // No access to the underlying io.Writer is performed. // The supplied Header is checked at the first Write. // It is ok to change it before the first Write but then not until a Reset() is performed. func NewWriter(dst io.Writer) *Writer { z := new(Writer) z.Reset(dst) return z } // WithConcurrency sets the number of concurrent go routines used for compression. // A negative value sets the concurrency to GOMAXPROCS. func (z *Writer) WithConcurrency(n int) *Writer { switch { case n == 0 || n == 1: z.c = nil return z case n < 0: n = runtime.GOMAXPROCS(0) } z.c = make(chan chan zResult, n) // Writer goroutine managing concurrent block compression goroutines. go func() { // Process next block compression item. for c := range z.c { // Read the next compressed block result. // Waiting here ensures that the blocks are output in the order they were sent. // The incoming channel is always closed as it indicates to the caller that // the block has been processed. res := <-c n := len(res.data) if n == 0 { // Notify the block compression routine that we are done with its result. // This is used when a sentinel block is sent to terminate the compression. close(c) return } // Write the block. if err := z.writeUint32(res.size); err != nil && z.err == nil { z.err = err } if _, err := z.dst.Write(res.data); err != nil && z.err == nil { z.err = err } if z.BlockChecksum { if err := z.writeUint32(res.checksum); err != nil && z.err == nil { z.err = err } } if isCompressed := res.size&compressedBlockFlag == 0; isCompressed { // It is now safe to release the buffer as no longer in use by any goroutine. putBuffer(cap(res.data), res.data) } if h := z.OnBlockDone; h != nil { h(n) } close(c) } }() return z } // newBuffers instantiates new buffers which size matches the one in Header. // The returned buffers are for decompression and compression respectively. func (z *Writer) newBuffers() { bSize := z.Header.BlockMaxSize buf := getBuffer(bSize) z.data = buf[:bSize] // Uncompressed buffer is the first half. } // freeBuffers puts the writer's buffers back to the pool. func (z *Writer) freeBuffers() { // Put the buffer back into the pool, if any. putBuffer(z.Header.BlockMaxSize, z.data) z.data = nil } // writeHeader builds and writes the header (magic+header) to the underlying io.Writer. func (z *Writer) writeHeader() error { // Default to 4Mb if BlockMaxSize is not set. if z.Header.BlockMaxSize == 0 { z.Header.BlockMaxSize = blockSize4M } // The only option that needs to be validated. bSize := z.Header.BlockMaxSize if !isValidBlockSize(z.Header.BlockMaxSize) { return fmt.Errorf("lz4: invalid block max size: %d", bSize) } // Allocate the compressed/uncompressed buffers. // The compressed buffer cannot exceed the uncompressed one. z.newBuffers() z.idx = 0 // Size is optional. buf := z.buf[:] // Set the fixed size data: magic number, block max size and flags. binary.LittleEndian.PutUint32(buf[0:], frameMagic) flg := byte(Version << 6) flg |= 1 << 5 // No block dependency. if z.Header.BlockChecksum { flg |= 1 << 4 } if z.Header.Size > 0 { flg |= 1 << 3 } if !z.Header.NoChecksum { flg |= 1 << 2 } buf[4] = flg buf[5] = blockSizeValueToIndex(z.Header.BlockMaxSize) << 4 // Current buffer size: magic(4) + flags(1) + block max size (1). n := 6 // Optional items. if z.Header.Size > 0 { binary.LittleEndian.PutUint64(buf[n:], z.Header.Size) n += 8 } // The header checksum includes the flags, block max size and optional Size. buf[n] = byte(xxh32.ChecksumZero(buf[4:n]) >> 8 & 0xFF) z.checksum.Reset() // Header ready, write it out. if _, err := z.dst.Write(buf[0 : n+1]); err != nil { return err } z.Header.done = true if debugFlag { debug("wrote header %v", z.Header) } return nil } // Write compresses data from the supplied buffer into the underlying io.Writer. // Write does not return until the data has been written. func (z *Writer) Write(buf []byte) (int, error) { if !z.Header.done { if err := z.writeHeader(); err != nil { return 0, err } } if debugFlag { debug("input buffer len=%d index=%d", len(buf), z.idx) } zn := len(z.data) var n int for len(buf) > 0 { if z.idx == 0 && len(buf) >= zn { // Avoid a copy as there is enough data for a block. if err := z.compressBlock(buf[:zn]); err != nil { return n, err } n += zn buf = buf[zn:] continue } // Accumulate the data to be compressed. m := copy(z.data[z.idx:], buf) n += m z.idx += m buf = buf[m:] if debugFlag { debug("%d bytes copied to buf, current index %d", n, z.idx) } if z.idx < len(z.data) { // Buffer not filled. if debugFlag { debug("need more data for compression") } return n, nil } // Buffer full. if err := z.compressBlock(z.data); err != nil { return n, err } z.idx = 0 } return n, nil } // compressBlock compresses a block. func (z *Writer) compressBlock(data []byte) error { if !z.NoChecksum { _, _ = z.checksum.Write(data) } if z.c != nil { c := make(chan zResult) z.c <- c // Send now to guarantee order go writerCompressBlock(c, z.Header, data) return nil } zdata := z.data[z.Header.BlockMaxSize:cap(z.data)] // The compressed block size cannot exceed the input's. var zn int if level := z.Header.CompressionLevel; level != 0 { zn, _ = CompressBlockHC(data, zdata, level) } else { zn, _ = CompressBlock(data, zdata, z.hashtable[:]) } var bLen uint32 if debugFlag { debug("block compression %d => %d", len(data), zn) } if zn > 0 && zn < len(data) { // Compressible and compressed size smaller than uncompressed: ok! bLen = uint32(zn) zdata = zdata[:zn] } else { // Uncompressed block. bLen = uint32(len(data)) | compressedBlockFlag zdata = data } if debugFlag { debug("block compression to be written len=%d data len=%d", bLen, len(zdata)) } // Write the block. if err := z.writeUint32(bLen); err != nil { return err } written, err := z.dst.Write(zdata) if err != nil { return err } if h := z.OnBlockDone; h != nil { h(written) } if !z.BlockChecksum { if debugFlag { debug("current frame checksum %x", z.checksum.Sum32()) } return nil } checksum := xxh32.ChecksumZero(zdata) if debugFlag { debug("block checksum %x", checksum) defer func() { debug("current frame checksum %x", z.checksum.Sum32()) }() } return z.writeUint32(checksum) } // Flush flushes any pending compressed data to the underlying writer. // Flush does not return until the data has been written. // If the underlying writer returns an error, Flush returns that error. func (z *Writer) Flush() error { if debugFlag { debug("flush with index %d", z.idx) } if z.idx == 0 { return nil } data := z.data[:z.idx] z.idx = 0 if z.c == nil { return z.compressBlock(data) } if !z.NoChecksum { _, _ = z.checksum.Write(data) } c := make(chan zResult) z.c <- c writerCompressBlock(c, z.Header, data) return nil } func (z *Writer) close() error { if z.c == nil { return nil } // Send a sentinel block (no data to compress) to terminate the writer main goroutine. c := make(chan zResult) z.c <- c c <- zResult{} // Wait for the main goroutine to complete. <-c // At this point the main goroutine has shut down or is about to return. z.c = nil return z.err } // Close closes the Writer, flushing any unwritten data to the underlying io.Writer, but does not close the underlying io.Writer. func (z *Writer) Close() error { if !z.Header.done { if err := z.writeHeader(); err != nil { return err } } if err := z.Flush(); err != nil { return err } if err := z.close(); err != nil { return err } z.freeBuffers() if debugFlag { debug("writing last empty block") } if err := z.writeUint32(0); err != nil { return err } if z.NoChecksum { return nil } checksum := z.checksum.Sum32() if debugFlag { debug("stream checksum %x", checksum) } return z.writeUint32(checksum) } // Reset clears the state of the Writer z such that it is equivalent to its // initial state from NewWriter, but instead writing to w. // No access to the underlying io.Writer is performed. func (z *Writer) Reset(w io.Writer) { n := cap(z.c) _ = z.close() z.freeBuffers() z.Header.Reset() z.dst = w z.checksum.Reset() z.idx = 0 z.err = nil z.WithConcurrency(n) } // writeUint32 writes a uint32 to the underlying writer. func (z *Writer) writeUint32(x uint32) error { buf := z.buf[:4] binary.LittleEndian.PutUint32(buf, x) _, err := z.dst.Write(buf) return err } // writerCompressBlock compresses data into a pooled buffer and writes its result // out to the input channel. func writerCompressBlock(c chan zResult, header Header, data []byte) { zdata := getBuffer(header.BlockMaxSize) // The compressed block size cannot exceed the input's. var zn int if level := header.CompressionLevel; level != 0 { zn, _ = CompressBlockHC(data, zdata, level) } else { var hashTable [winSize]int zn, _ = CompressBlock(data, zdata, hashTable[:]) } var res zResult if zn > 0 && zn < len(data) { res.size = uint32(zn) res.data = zdata[:zn] } else { res.size = uint32(len(data)) | compressedBlockFlag res.data = data } if header.BlockChecksum { res.checksum = xxh32.ChecksumZero(res.data) } c <- res } lz4-2.5.2/writer_test.go000066400000000000000000000071041364760661600151540ustar00rootroot00000000000000package lz4_test import ( "bytes" "fmt" "io" "io/ioutil" "os" "reflect" "testing" "github.com/pierrec/lz4" ) func TestWriter(t *testing.T) { goldenFiles := []string{ "testdata/e.txt", "testdata/gettysburg.txt", "testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer.txt", "testdata/Mark.Twain-Tom.Sawyer_long.txt", "testdata/pg1661.txt", "testdata/pi.txt", "testdata/random.data", "testdata/repeat.txt", } for _, fname := range goldenFiles { for _, size := range []int{0, 4} { for _, header := range []lz4.Header{ {}, // Default header. {BlockChecksum: true}, {NoChecksum: true}, {BlockMaxSize: 64 << 10}, // 64Kb {CompressionLevel: 10}, {Size: 123}, } { label := fmt.Sprintf("%s/%s", fname, header) t.Run(label, func(t *testing.T) { fname := fname header := header t.Parallel() raw, err := ioutil.ReadFile(fname) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } r := bytes.NewReader(raw) // Compress. var zout bytes.Buffer zw := lz4.NewWriter(&zout) zw.Header = header zw.WithConcurrency(size) _, err = io.Copy(zw, r) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } err = zw.Close() if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } // Uncompress. var out bytes.Buffer zr := lz4.NewReader(&zout) n, err := io.Copy(&out, zr) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } // The uncompressed data must be the same as the initial input. if got, want := int(n), len(raw); got != want { t.Errorf("invalid sizes: got %d; want %d", got, want) } if got, want := out.Bytes(), raw; !reflect.DeepEqual(got, want) { t.Fatal("uncompressed data does not match original") } }) } } } } func TestIssue41(t *testing.T) { r, w := io.Pipe() zw := lz4.NewWriter(w) zr := lz4.NewReader(r) data := "x" go func() { _, _ = fmt.Fprint(zw, data) _ = zw.Flush() _ = zw.Close() _ = w.Close() }() var buf bytes.Buffer _, _ = buf.ReadFrom(zr) if got, want := buf.String(), data; got != want { t.Fatal("uncompressed data does not match original") } } func TestIssue43(t *testing.T) { r, w := io.Pipe() go func() { defer w.Close() f, err := os.Open("testdata/issue43.data") if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } defer f.Close() zw := lz4.NewWriter(w) defer zw.Close() _, err = io.Copy(zw, f) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } }() _, err := io.Copy(ioutil.Discard, lz4.NewReader(r)) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } } func TestIssue51(t *testing.T) { data, err := ioutil.ReadFile("testdata/issue51.data") if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } zbuf := make([]byte, 8192) ht := make([]int, htSize) n, err := lz4.CompressBlock(data, zbuf, ht) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } zbuf = zbuf[:n] buf := make([]byte, 8192) n, err = lz4.UncompressBlock(zbuf, buf) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } buf = buf[:n] if !bytes.Equal(data, buf) { t.Fatal("processed data does not match input") } } func TestIssue71(t *testing.T) { for _, tc := range []string{ "abc", // < mfLimit "abcdefghijklmnopq", // > mfLimit } { t.Run(tc, func(t *testing.T) { src := []byte(tc) bound := lz4.CompressBlockBound(len(tc)) // Small buffer. zSmall := make([]byte, bound-1) n, err := lz4.CompressBlock(src, zSmall, nil) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } if n != 0 { t.Fatal("should be incompressible") } // Large enough buffer. zLarge := make([]byte, bound) n, err = lz4.CompressBlock(src, zLarge, nil) if err != nil { t.Fatal(err) } if n == 0 { t.Fatal("should be compressible") } }) } }