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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7195-h.zip b/7195-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..13f4ccf --- /dev/null +++ b/7195-h.zip diff --git a/7195-h/7195-h.htm b/7195-h/7195-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..08713a9 --- /dev/null +++ b/7195-h/7195-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1976 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER, By Twain, Part 3.</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + + +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7; margin:10%; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; text-align: center; } + blockquote {font-size: 97% } + .figleft {float: left;} + .figright {float: right;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> + + +</head> +<body> + +<h2>ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER, By Twain, Part 3.</h2> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 3. +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 3. + +Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +Release Date: June 29, 2004 [EBook #7195] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SAWYER, PART 3. *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<center> +<img alt="bookcover.jpg (156K)" src="images/bookcover.jpg" height="1038" width="832"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="spine.jpg (33K)" src="images/spine.jpg" height="1028" width="204"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<center> +<h1>THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER </h1> +<br><br> +<h2>BY MARK TWAIN</h2> +<h3>(Samuel Langhorne Clemens)</h3> +</center> +<br><br> +<h2>Part 3.</h2> +<br> +<a name="frontispiece"></a> +<br> +<center> +<img alt="frontispiece.jpg (259K)" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" height="1027" width="750"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="titlepage.jpg (72K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" height="1030" width="843"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> +<center> +<img alt="dedication.jpg (10K)" src="images/dedication.jpg" height="245" width="473"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<center><h2>CONTENTS</h2></center> + + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +<p><a href="#c8">CHAPTER VIII.</a><br> +Tom Decides on his Course—Old Scenes Re-enacted</p> +<p><a href="#c9">CHAPTER IX.</a><br> +A Solemn Situation—Grave Subjects Introduced<br>—Injun Joe Explains</p> +<p><a href="#c10">CHAPTER X.</a><br> +The Solemn Oath—Terror Brings Repentance<br>—Mental Punishment</p> +<p><a href="#c11">CHAPTER XI.</a><br> +Muff Potter Comes Himself—Tom's Conscience at Work</p> +<p><a href="#c12">CHAPTER XII.</a><br> +Tom Shows his Generosity—Aunt Polly Weakens</p> + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + + + +<br><br><br><br> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + + + +<a href="#08-079">The Grave in the Woods</a><br> +<a href="#08-081">Tom Meditates</a><br> +<a href="#08-083">Robin Hood and his Foe</a><br> +<a href="#08-084">Death of Robin Hood</a><br> +<a href="#09-085">Midnight</a><br> +<a href="#09-086">Tom's Mode of Egress</a><br> +<a href="#09-088">Tom's Effort at Prayer</a><br> +<a href="#09-091">Muff Potter Outwitted</a><br> +<a href="#09-092">The Graveyard</a><br> +<a href="#10-093">Forewarnings</a><br> +<a href="#10-098">Disturbing Muff's Sleep</a><br> +<a href="#10-100">Tom's Talk with his Aunt</a><br> +<a href="#11-101">Muff Potter</a><br> +<a href="#11-102">A Suspicious Incident</a><br> +<a href="#11-103">Injun Joe's two Victims</a><br> +<a href="#11-106">In the Coils</a><br> +<a href="#12-107">Peter</a><br> +<a href="#12-108">Aunt Polly seeks Information</a><br> +<a href="#12-110">A General Good Time</a><br> +<a href="#12-112">Demoralized</a><br> + + + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> + + + + + +<p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="c8"></a></p> + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +</center> + +<br><br> +<a name="08-079"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="08-079.jpg (195K)" src="images/08-079.jpg" height="924" width="810"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well +out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a +moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, +because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water +baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind +the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the +school-house was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley +behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to +the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading +oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat +had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance +that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering +of a wood-pecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence +and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was +steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his +surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his +chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but +a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so +lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and +slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering +through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over +the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. +If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing +to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he +done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been +treated like a dog—like a very dog. She would be sorry some +day—maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die +TEMPORARILY!</p> + +<p>But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one +constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift +insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he +turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he +went away—ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond +the seas—and never came back any more! How would she feel +then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill +him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were +an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was +exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would +be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and +illustrious. No—better still, he would join the Indians, +and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges +and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the +future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous +with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer +morning, with a blood-curdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs +of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was +something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was +it! NOW his future lay plain before him, and glowing with +unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and +make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the +dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of +the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the +zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old +village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his +black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his +crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his +crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving +plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on +it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom +Sawyer the Pirate!—the Black Avenger of the Spanish +Main!"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="08-081"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="08-081.jpg (99K)" src="images/08-081.jpg" height="941" width="337"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run +away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next +morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would +collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at +hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. +He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there +and uttered this incantation impressively:</p> + +<p>"What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!"</p> + +<p>Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He +took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose +bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's +astonishment was bound-less! He scratched his head with a +perplexed air, and said:</p> + +<p>"Well, that beats anything!"</p> + +<p>Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood +cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, +here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as +infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary +incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the +place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that +all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves +together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been +separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably +failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its +foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding +but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he +had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find +the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some +time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and +broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that +point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot +with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself +down and put his mouth close to this depression and +called—</p> + +<p>"Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! +Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!"</p> + +<p>The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug +appeared for a second and then darted under again in a +fright.</p> + +<p>"He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed +it."</p> + +<p>He well knew the futility of trying to contend against +witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that +he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and +therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could +not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully +placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the +marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and +tossed it in the same way, saying:</p> + +<p>"Brother, go find your brother!"</p> + +<p>He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it +must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. +The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a +foot of each other.</p> + +<p>Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the +green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and +trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush +behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath +sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things +and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently +halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then +began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said +cautiously—to an imaginary company:</p> + +<p>"Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow."</p> + +<p>Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed +as Tom. Tom called:</p> + +<p>"Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my +pass?"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="08-083"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="08-083.jpg (58K)" src="images/08-083.jpg" height="545" width="345"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>"Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou +that—that—"</p> + +<p>"Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting—for +they talked "by the book," from memory.</p> + +<p>"Who art thou that dares to hold such language?"</p> + +<p>"I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall +know."</p> + +<p>"Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I +dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at +thee!"</p> + +<p>They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the +ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a +grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom +said:</p> + +<p>"Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!"</p> + +<p>So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the +work. By and by Tom shouted:</p> + +<p>"Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?"</p> + +<p>"I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the +worst of it."</p> + +<p>"Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it +is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke +he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me +hit you in the back."</p> + +<p>There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, +received the whack and fell.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. +That's fair."</p> + +<p>"Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book."</p> + +<p>"Well, it's blamed mean—that's all."</p> + +<p>"Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's +son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of +Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me."</p> + +<p>This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried +out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the +treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected +wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping +outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble +hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor +Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and +fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang +up too gaily for a corpse.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="08-084"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="08-084.jpg (49K)" src="images/08-084.jpg" height="510" width="359"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and +went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and +wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to +compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws +a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States +forever.</p> + +<p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="c9"></a></p> + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +</center> + +<br><br> +<a name="09-085"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="09-085.jpg (174K)" src="images/09-085.jpg" height="920" width="814"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + + +<p>AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, +as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom +lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to +him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike +ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his +nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay +still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally +still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely +perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of +the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to +crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently +spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt +Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that +no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking +of a death-watch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom +shudder—it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then +the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered +by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. +At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; +he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, +but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his +half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising +of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you +devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his +aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later +he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof +of the "ell" on all fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or +twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and +thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead +cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end +of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the +graveyard.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="09-086"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="09-086.jpg (52K)" src="images/09-086.jpg" height="548" width="362"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<p>It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was +on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a +crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and +outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass +and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves +were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; +round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, +leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" +So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer +have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been +light.</p> + +<p>A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might +be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The +boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and +the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their +spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and +ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms +that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave.</p> + +<p>Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The +hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead +stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some +talk. So he said in a whisper:</p> + +<p>"Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be +here?"</p> + +<p>Huckleberry whispered:</p> + +<p>"I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?"</p> + +<p>"I bet it is."</p> + +<p>There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this +matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered:</p> + +<p>"Say, Hucky—do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us +talking?"</p> + +<p>"O' course he does. Least his sperrit does."</p> + +<p>Tom, after a pause:</p> + +<p>"I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. +Everybody calls him Hoss."</p> + +<p>"A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer +dead people, Tom."</p> + +<p>This was a damper, and conversation died again.</p> + +<p>Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said:</p> + +<p>"Sh!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating +hearts.</p> + +<p>"Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?"</p> + +<p>"I—"</p> + +<p>"There! Now you hear it."</p> + +<p>"Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we +do?"</p> + +<p>"I dono. Think they'll see us?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I +hadn't come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We +ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they +won't notice us at all."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver."</p> + +<p>"Listen!"</p> + +<p>The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A +muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the +graveyard.</p> + +<p>"Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful."</p> + +<p>Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an +old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with +innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry +whispered with a shudder:</p> + +<p>"It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're +goners! Can you pray?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt +us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I—'"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="09-088"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="09-088.jpg (48K)" src="images/09-088.jpg" height="494" width="332"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"Sh!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Huck?"</p> + +<p>"They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff +Potter's voice."</p> + +<p>"No—'tain't so, is it?"</p> + +<p>"I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp +enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, +likely—blamed old rip!"</p> + +<p>"All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. +Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red +hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another +o' them voices; it's Injun Joe."</p> + +<p>"That's so—that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they +was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?"</p> + +<p>The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had +reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' +hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held +the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor +Robinson.</p> + +<p>Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope +and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and +began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head +of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of +the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched +him.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come +out at any moment."</p> + +<p>They growled a response and went on digging. For some time +there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades +discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very +monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull +woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had +hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their +shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground. The +moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. +The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered +with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took +out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope +and then said:</p> + +<p>"Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out +with another five, or here she stays."</p> + +<p>"That's the talk!" said Injun Joe.</p> + +<p>"Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You +required your pay in advance, and I've paid you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, +approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you +drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come +to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any +good; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred +years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd +forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT +you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!"</p> + +<p>He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by +this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the +ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had +grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might +and main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their +heels. Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with +passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike +and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an +opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized +the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the +earth with it—and in the same instant the half-breed saw +his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's +breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with +his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the +dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away +in the dark.</p> + +<p>Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing +over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured +inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The +half-breed muttered:</p> + +<p>"THAT score is settled—damn you."</p> + +<p>Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in +Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. +Three—four—five minutes passed, and then Potter +began to stir and moan. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised +it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat +up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around +him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's.</p> + +<p>"Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said.</p> + +<p>"It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving.</p> + +<p>"What did you do it for?"</p> + +<p>"I! I never done it!"</p> + +<p>"Look here! That kind of talk won't wash."</p> + +<p>Potter trembled and grew white.</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. +But it's in my head yet—worse'n when we started here. I'm +all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell +me, Joe—HONEST, now, old feller—did I do it? Joe, I +never meant to—'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to, +Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful—and him so +young and promising."</p> + +<p>"Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the +headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling +and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into +him, just as he fetched you another awful clip—and here +you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="09-091"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="09-091.jpg (101K)" src="images/09-091.jpg" height="519" width="646"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this +minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the +excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, +Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. +Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe—that's a good +feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't +you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, Joe?" And the poor +creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and +clasped his appealing hands.</p> + +<p>"No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, +and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man +can say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest +day I live." And Potter began to cry.</p> + +<p>"Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for +blubbering. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, +and don't leave any tracks behind you."</p> + +<p>Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The +half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered:</p> + +<p>"If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the +rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till +he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a +place by himself—chicken-heart!"</p> + +<p>Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed +corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no +inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, +too.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="09-092"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="09-092.jpg (45K)" src="images/09-092.jpg" height="303" width="706"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="c10"></a></p> + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +</center> + +<br><br> +<a name="10-093"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="10-093.jpg (171K)" src="images/10-093.jpg" height="919" width="788"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless +with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time +to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be +followed. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man +and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped +by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking +of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet.</p> + +<p>"If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" +whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand +it much longer."</p> + +<p>Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys +fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their +work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast +to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and +exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond. By and by their +pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered:</p> + +<p>"Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?"</p> + +<p>"If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it."</p> + +<p>"Do you though?"</p> + +<p>"Why, I KNOW it, Tom."</p> + +<p>Tom thought a while, then he said:</p> + +<p>"Who'll tell? We?"</p> + +<p>"What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and +Injun Joe DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just +as dead sure as we're a laying here."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck."</p> + +<p>"If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. +He's generally drunk enough."</p> + +<p>Tom said nothing—went on thinking. Presently he +whispered:</p> + +<p>"Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?"</p> + +<p>"What's the reason he don't know it?"</p> + +<p>"Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. +D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed +anything?"</p> + +<p>"By hokey, that's so, Tom!"</p> + +<p>"And besides, look-a-here—maybe that whack done for +HIM!"</p> + +<p>"No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see +that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you +might take and belt him over the head with a church and you +couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same +with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I +reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono."</p> + +<p>After another reflective silence, Tom said:</p> + +<p>"Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?"</p> + +<p>"Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil +wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if +we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, +look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another—that's +what we got to do—swear to keep mum."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="10-095"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="10-095.jpg (149K)" src="images/10-095.jpg" height="1030" width="795"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands +and swear that we—"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for +little rubbishy common things—specially with gals, cuz THEY +go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff—but +there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And +blood."</p> + +<p>Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, +and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were +in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in +the moon-light, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his +pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these +lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue +between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes. +[See next page.]</p> + +<p>"Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This +and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They +ever Tell and Rot."</p> + +<p>Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in +writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin +from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom +said:</p> + +<p>"Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have +verdigrease on it."</p> + +<p>"What's verdigrease?"</p> + +<p>"It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it +once—you'll see."</p> + +<p>So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each +boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of +blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his +initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he +showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was +complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some +dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound +their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown +away.</p> + +<p>A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of +the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it.</p> + +<p>"Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER +telling—ALWAYS?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, +we got to keep mum. We'd drop down dead—don't YOU know +that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I reckon that's so."</p> + +<p>They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a +dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside—within ten +feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony +of fright.</p> + +<p>"Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry.</p> + +<p>"I dono—peep through the crack. Quick!"</p> + +<p>"No, YOU, Tom!"</p> + +<p>"I can't—I can't DO it, Huck!"</p> + +<p>"Please, Tom. There 'tis again!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. +It's Bull Harbison." *</p> + +<p>[* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have +spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that +name was "Bull Harbison."]</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's good—I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to +death; I'd a bet anything it was a STRAY dog."</p> + +<p>The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. +"DO, Tom!"</p> + +<p>Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. +His whisper was hardly audible when he said:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!"</p> + +<p>"Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?"</p> + +<p>"Huck, he must mean us both—we're right together."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no +mistake 'bout where I'LL go to. I been so wicked."</p> + +<p>"Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing +everything a feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like +Sid, if I'd a tried—but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if +ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just WALLER in +Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little.</p> + +<p>"YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, +Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'long-side o' what I am. Oh, +LORDY, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance."</p> + +<p>Tom choked off and whispered:</p> + +<p>"Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!"</p> + +<p>Hucky looked, with joy in his heart.</p> + +<p>"Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is +bully, you know. NOW who can he mean?"</p> + +<p>The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears.</p> + +<p>"Sh! What's that?" he whispered.</p> + +<p>"Sounds like—like hogs grunting. No—it's somebody +snoring, Tom."</p> + +<p>"That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?"</p> + +<p>"I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap +used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws +bless you, he just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon +he ain't ever coming back to this town any more."</p> + +<p>The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more.</p> + +<p>"Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!"</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="10-098"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="10-098.jpg (89K)" src="images/10-098.jpg" height="533" width="654"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again +and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they +would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went +tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they +had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a +stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a +little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. +The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the +man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tip-toed out, +through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little +distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl +rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog +standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING +Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward.</p> + +<p>"Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath.</p> + +<p>"Say, Tom—they say a stray dog come howling around +Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; +and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the +very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet."</p> + +<p>"Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie +Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the +very next Saturday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting +better, too."</p> + +<p>"All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure +as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they +know all about these kind of things, Huck."</p> + +<p>Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his +bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with +excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that +nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the +gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour.</p> + +<p>When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late +look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was +startled. Why had he not been called—persecuted till he was +up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five +minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. +The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. +There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there +was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the +culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was +up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed +into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths.</p> + +<p>After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost +brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it +was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go +and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and +ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, +for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a +thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. +He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and +over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had +won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble +confidence.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="10-100"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="10-100.jpg (63K)" src="images/10-100.jpg" height="545" width="417"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful +toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back +gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took +his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day +before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier +woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself to his +seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, +and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has +reached the limit and can no further go. His elbow was pressing +against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and +sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. +It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal +sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron +knob!</p> + +<p>This final feather broke the camel's back.</p> + + +<p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="c11"></a></p> + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +</center> + +<br><br> +<a name="11-101"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="11-101.jpg (179K)" src="images/11-101.jpg" height="931" width="774"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly +electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet +un-dreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from +group to group, from house to house, with little less than +telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holi-day for +that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if +he had not.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="11-102"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="11-102.jpg (49K)" src="images/11-102.jpg" height="495" width="356"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it +had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff +Potter—so the story ran. And it was said that a belated +citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" +about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at +once sneaked off—suspicious circumstances, especially the +washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that +the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are +not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a +verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed +down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was +confident" that he would be captured before night.</p> + +<p>All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's +heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he +would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because +an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the +dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and +saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was +there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes +met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and +wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. +But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle +before them.</p> + +<p>"Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson +to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch +him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It +was a judgment; His hand is here."</p> + +<p>Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the +stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway +and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's +coming himself!"</p> + +<p>"Who? Who?" from twenty voices.</p> + +<p>"Muff Potter!"</p> + +<p>"Hallo, he's stopped!—Look out, he's turning! Don't let +him get away!"</p> + +<p>People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he +wasn't trying to get away—he only looked doubtful and +perplexed.</p> + +<p>"Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and +take a quiet look at his work, I reckon—didn't expect any +company."</p> + +<p>The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, +ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face +was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When +he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and +he put his face in his hands and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor +I never done it."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="11-103"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="11-103.jpg (112K)" src="images/11-103.jpg" height="512" width="674"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"Who's accused you?" shouted a voice.</p> + +<p>This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and +looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He +saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never—"</p> + +<p>"Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the +Sheriff.</p> + +<p>Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased +him to the ground. Then he said:</p> + +<p>"Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get—" He +shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished +gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em—it ain't any use +any more."</p> + +<p>Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard +the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they +expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's +lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the +stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood +alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and +save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, +for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would +be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that.</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" +somebody said.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it—I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. +"I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but +here." And he fell to sobbing again.</p> + +<p>Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few +minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, +seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in +their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now +become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had +ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes +from his face.</p> + +<p>They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity +should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread +master.</p> + +<p>Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put +it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the +shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought +that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right +direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager +remarked:</p> + +<p>"It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it."</p> + +<p>Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his +sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one +morning Sid said:</p> + +<p>"Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you +keep me awake half the time."</p> + +<p>Tom blanched and dropped his eyes.</p> + +<p>"It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on +your mind, Tom?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so +that he spilled his coffee.</p> + +<p>"And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, +'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over +and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so—I'll tell!' +Tell WHAT? What is it you'll tell?"</p> + +<p>Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what +might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of +Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing +it. She said:</p> + +<p>"Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every +night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it."</p> + +<p>Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed +satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly +could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and +tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly +watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned +on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward +slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of +mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was +discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's +disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done +holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble +present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at +one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the +lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never +acted as a witness—and that was strange; and Sid did not +overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these +inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, +but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at +last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience.</p> + +<p>Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his +opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and +smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he +could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that +stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were +afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings +greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience.</p> + +<p>The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe +and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was +his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take +the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to +begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without +confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was +deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="11-106"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="11-106.jpg (17K)" src="images/11-106.jpg" height="271" width="447"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="c12"></a></p> + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +</center> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-107"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-107.jpg (179K)" src="images/12-107.jpg" height="874" width="826"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its +secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter +to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to +school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to +"whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself +hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very +miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was +distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in +war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was +nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; +there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She +began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those +people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all +new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an +inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in +this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not +on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that +came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals +and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were +inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they +contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get +up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to +take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort +of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never +observed that her health-journals of the current month +customarily upset everything they had recommended the month +before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, +and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack +periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, +went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell +following after." But she never suspected that she was not an +angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the +suffering neighbors.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-108"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-108.jpg (51K)" src="images/12-108.jpg" height="484" width="351"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was +a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, +stood him up in the wood-shed and drowned him with a deluge of +cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, +and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and +put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and +"the yellow stains of it came through his pores"—as Tom +said.</p> + +<p>Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more +melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz +baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a +hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet +and blister-plasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a +jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls.</p> + +<p>Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This +phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This +indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of +Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She +tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a +liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, +and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful +and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles +were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the +"indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a +wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him.</p> + +<p>Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might +be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was +getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting +variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, +and finally hit upon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. +He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt +ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If +it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her +delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle +clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, +but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health +of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it.</p> + +<p>One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's +yellow cat came along, purring, eyeing the teaspoon avariciously, +and begging for a taste. Tom said:</p> + +<p>"Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter."</p> + +<p>But Peter signified that he did want it.</p> + +<p>"You better make sure."</p> + +<p>Peter was sure.</p> + +<p>"Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because +there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't +like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self."</p> + +<p>Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured +down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, +and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the +room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and +making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced +around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder +and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he +went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and +destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him +throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and +sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the +flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with +astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor +expiring with laughter.</p> + +<p>"Tom, what on earth ails that cat?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy.</p> + +<p>"Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act +so?"</p> + +<p>"Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when +they're having a good time."</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-110"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-110.jpg (106K)" src="images/12-110.jpg" height="501" width="680"> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + +<p>"They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made +Tom apprehensive.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm. That is, I believe they do."</p> + +<p>"You DO?"</p> + +<p>"Yes'm."</p> + +<p>The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest +emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The +handle of the telltale tea-spoon was visible under the +bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and +dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual +handle—his ear—and cracked his head soundly with her +thimble.</p> + +<p>"Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, +for?"</p> + +<p>"I done it out of pity for him—because he hadn't any +aunt."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't any aunt!—you numskull. What has that got to do +with it?"</p> + +<p>"Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! +She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling +than if he was a human!"</p> + +<p>Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the +thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty +to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes +watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said +gently:</p> + +<p>"I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you +good."</p> + +<p>Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle +peeping through his gravity.</p> + +<p>"I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with +Peter. It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so +since—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. +And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you +needn't take any more medicine."</p> + +<p>Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this +strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as +usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead +of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked +it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he +really was looking—down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher +hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and +then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted +him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, +but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and +watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and +hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right +one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly +into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to +suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's +heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going +on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over +the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, +standing on his head—doing all the heroic things he could +conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see +if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious +of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was +not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her +immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's +cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a +group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell +sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting +her—and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard +her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart—always +showing off!"</p> + +<p>Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, +crushed and crestfallen.</p> + +<br><br> +<a name="12-112"></a> +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="12-112.jpg (17K)" src="images/12-112.jpg" height="248" width="352"> +</center> +<br><br> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 3. +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SAWYER, PART 3. *** + +***** This file should be named 7195-h.htm or 7195-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/1/9/7195/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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100644 index 0000000..a10c4d6 --- /dev/null +++ b/7195-h/images/spine.jpg diff --git a/7195-h/images/titlepage.jpg b/7195-h/images/titlepage.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..baf39da --- /dev/null +++ b/7195-h/images/titlepage.jpg diff --git a/7195.txt b/7195.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..967b03c --- /dev/null +++ b/7195.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1515 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 3. +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 3. + +Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +Release Date: June 29, 2004 [EBook #7195] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SAWYER, PART 3. *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER + BY + MARK TWAIN + (Samuel Langhorne Clemens) + + Part 3 + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of +the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He +crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing +juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour +later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of +Cardiff Hill, and the schoolhouse was hardly distinguishable away off +in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless +way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading +oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had +even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was +broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a +woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense +of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in +melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He +sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, +meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and +he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be +very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and +ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the +grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve +about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he +could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. +What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been +treated like a dog--like a very dog. She would be sorry some day--maybe +when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY! + +But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one +constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift +insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned +his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away--ever +so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas--and never came +back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown +recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and +jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves +upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the +romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all +war-worn and illustrious. No--better still, he would join the Indians, +and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the +trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come +back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and +prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a +bloodcurdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions +with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than +this. He would be a pirate! That was it! NOW his future lay plain +before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would +fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go +plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the +Spirit of the Storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at +the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village +and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet +doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt +bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his +slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull +and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, +"It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate!--the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!" + +Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from +home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore +he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources +together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under +one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded +hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively: + +"What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!" + +Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it +up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides +were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! +He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said: + +"Well, that beats anything!" + +Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The +truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and +all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a +marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a +fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just +used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had +gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they +had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably +failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. +He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its +failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several +times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places +afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided +that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he +would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he +found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. +He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and +called-- + +"Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, +doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" + +The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a +second and then darted under again in a fright. + +"He dasn't tell! So it WAS a witch that done it. I just knowed it." + +He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he +gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have +the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a +patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to +his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been +standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble +from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying: + +"Brother, go find your brother!" + +He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must +have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last +repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each +other. + +Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green +aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a +suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, +disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in +a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with +fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an +answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way +and that. He said cautiously--to an imaginary company: + +"Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow." + +Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. +Tom called: + +"Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?" + +"Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that--that--" + +"Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting--for they talked +"by the book," from memory. + +"Who art thou that dares to hold such language?" + +"I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know." + +"Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute +with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!" + +They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, +struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful +combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said: + +"Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!" + +So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and +by Tom shouted: + +"Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?" + +"I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of +it." + +"Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in +the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor +Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the +back." + +There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received +the whack and fell. + +"Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill YOU. That's fair." + +"Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book." + +"Well, it's blamed mean--that's all." + +"Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and +lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and +you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me." + +This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then +Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to +bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, +representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, +gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow +falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he +shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a +nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse. + +The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off +grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern +civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. +They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than +President of the United States forever. + + + +CHAPTER IX + +AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. +They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and +waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be +nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He +would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was +afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. +Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, +scarcely perceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking +of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to +crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were +abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And +now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could +locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a deathwatch in the wall at +the bed's head made Tom shudder--it meant that somebody's days were +numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was +answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an +agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity +begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, +but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his +half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a +neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the +crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed +brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and +out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all +fours. He "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped +to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn +was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the +gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall +grass of the graveyard. + +It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a +hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board +fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of +the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the +whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a +tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over +the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory +of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer +have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light. + +A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the +spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked +little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the +pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the +sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the +protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet +of the grave. + +Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting +of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. +Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said +in a whisper: + +"Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?" + +Huckleberry whispered: + +"I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, AIN'T it?" + +"I bet it is." + +There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter +inwardly. Then Tom whispered: + +"Say, Hucky--do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?" + +"O' course he does. Least his sperrit does." + +Tom, after a pause: + +"I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. +Everybody calls him Hoss." + +"A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead +people, Tom." + +This was a damper, and conversation died again. + +Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said: + +"Sh!" + +"What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts. + +"Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?" + +"I--" + +"There! Now you hear it." + +"Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?" + +"I dono. Think they'll see us?" + +"Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't +come." + +"Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't +doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us +at all." + +"I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver." + +"Listen!" + +The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled +sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard. + +"Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?" + +"It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful." + +Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an +old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable +little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a +shudder: + +"It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! +Can you pray?" + +"I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now +I lay me down to sleep, I--'" + +"Sh!" + +"What is it, Huck?" + +"They're HUMANS! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's +voice." + +"No--'tain't so, is it?" + +"I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to +notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely--blamed old rip!" + +"All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here +they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! +They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them +voices; it's Injun Joe." + +"That's so--that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a +dern sight. What kin they be up to?" + +The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the +grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place. + +"Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the +lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson. + +Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a +couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open +the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came +and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so +close the boys could have touched him. + +"Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any +moment." + +They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was +no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight +of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck +upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or +two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid +with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the +ground. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid +face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered +with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. Potter took out a +large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then +said: + +"Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with +another five, or here she stays." + +"That's the talk!" said Injun Joe. + +"Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your +pay in advance, and I've paid you." + +"Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the +doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from +your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to +eat, and you said I warn't there for any good; and when I swore I'd get +even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for +a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for +nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to SETTLE, you know!" + +He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this +time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the +ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed: + +"Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had +grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and +main, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. +Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched +up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and +round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the +doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' +grave and felled Potter to the earth with it--and in the same instant +the half-breed saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the +young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him +with his blood, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the +dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in +the dark. + +Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over +the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, +gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered: + +"THAT score is settled--damn you." + +Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in +Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three +--four--five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan. His +hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it +fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and +gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's. + +"Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said. + +"It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving. + +"What did you do it for?" + +"I! I never done it!" + +"Look here! That kind of talk won't wash." + +Potter trembled and grew white. + +"I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's +in my head yet--worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; +can't recollect anything of it, hardly. Tell me, Joe--HONEST, now, old +feller--did I do it? Joe, I never meant to--'pon my soul and honor, I +never meant to, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful--and him +so young and promising." + +"Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard +and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering +like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched +you another awful clip--and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til +now." + +"Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if +I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I +reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but +never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you +won't tell, Joe--that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and +stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You WON'T tell, WILL you, +Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid +murderer, and clasped his appealing hands. + +"No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I +won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say." + +"Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I +live." And Potter began to cry. + +"Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. +You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any +tracks behind you." + +Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The +half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered: + +"If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he +had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so +far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself +--chicken-heart!" + +Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the +lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the +moon's. The stillness was complete again, too. + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE two boys flew on and on, toward the village, speechless with +horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, +apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed. Every stump +that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them +catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay +near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give +wings to their feet. + +"If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" +whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much +longer." + +Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed +their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. +They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst +through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering +shadows beyond. By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered: + +"Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?" + +"If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it." + +"Do you though?" + +"Why, I KNOW it, Tom." + +Tom thought a while, then he said: + +"Who'll tell? We?" + +"What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe +DIDN'T hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as +we're a laying here." + +"That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck." + +"If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's +generally drunk enough." + +Tom said nothing--went on thinking. Presently he whispered: + +"Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?" + +"What's the reason he don't know it?" + +"Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon +he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?" + +"By hokey, that's so, Tom!" + +"And besides, look-a-here--maybe that whack done for HIM!" + +"No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and +besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt +him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, +his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a +man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono." + +After another reflective silence, Tom said: + +"Hucky, you sure you can keep mum?" + +"Tom, we GOT to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't +make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to +squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less +take and swear to one another--that's what we got to do--swear to keep +mum." + +"I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear +that we--" + +"Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little +rubbishy common things--specially with gals, cuz THEY go back on you +anyway, and blab if they get in a huff--but there orter be writing +'bout a big thing like this. And blood." + +Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and +awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping +with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, +took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on +his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow +down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up +the pressure on the up-strokes. [See next page.] + + "Huck Finn and + Tom Sawyer swears + they will keep mum + about This and They + wish They may Drop + down dead in Their + Tracks if They ever + Tell and Rot." + +Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, +and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel +and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said: + +"Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on +it." + +"What's verdigrease?" + +"It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once +--you'll see." + +So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy +pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In +time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the +ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to +make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle +close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and +the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and +the key thrown away. + +A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the +ruined building, now, but they did not notice it. + +"Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from EVER telling +--ALWAYS?" + +"Of course it does. It don't make any difference WHAT happens, we got +to keep mum. We'd drop down dead--don't YOU know that?" + +"Yes, I reckon that's so." + +They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up +a long, lugubrious howl just outside--within ten feet of them. The boys +clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright. + +"Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry. + +"I dono--peep through the crack. Quick!" + +"No, YOU, Tom!" + +"I can't--I can't DO it, Huck!" + +"Please, Tom. There 'tis again!" + +"Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull +Harbison." * + +[* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of +him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull +Harbison."] + +"Oh, that's good--I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a +bet anything it was a STRAY dog." + +The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more. + +"Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "DO, Tom!" + +Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His +whisper was hardly audible when he said: + +"Oh, Huck, IT S A STRAY DOG!" + +"Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?" + +"Huck, he must mean us both--we're right together." + +"Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout +where I'LL go to. I been so wicked." + +"Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a +feller's told NOT to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried +--but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay +I'll just WALLER in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little. + +"YOU bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom +Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, LORDY, lordy, +lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance." + +Tom choked off and whispered: + +"Look, Hucky, look! He's got his BACK to us!" + +Hucky looked, with joy in his heart. + +"Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?" + +"Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, +you know. NOW who can he mean?" + +The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears. + +"Sh! What's that?" he whispered. + +"Sounds like--like hogs grunting. No--it's somebody snoring, Tom." + +"That IS it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?" + +"I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to +sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he +just lifts things when HE snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever +coming back to this town any more." + +The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more. + +"Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?" + +"I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!" + +Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the +boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to +their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily +down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps +of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. +The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. +It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes +too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed +out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little +distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on +the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing +within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with +his nose pointing heavenward. + +"Oh, geeminy, it's HIM!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath. + +"Say, Tom--they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's +house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill +come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and +there ain't anybody dead there yet." + +"Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall +in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?" + +"Yes, but she ain't DEAD. And what's more, she's getting better, too." + +"All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff +Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about +these kind of things, Huck." + +Then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom +window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, +and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his +escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and +had been so for an hour. + +When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the +light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not +been called--persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled +him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, +feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had +finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were +averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a +chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it +was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into +silence and let his heart sink down to the depths. + +After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in +the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt +wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; +and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray +hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any +more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was +sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised +to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling +that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a +feeble confidence. + +He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; +and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was +unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, +along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air +of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to +trifles. Then he betook himself to his seat, rested his elbows on his +desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony +stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go. +His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time +he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with +a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal +sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob! + +This final feather broke the camel's back. + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified +with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; +the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to +house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the +schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have +thought strangely of him if he had not. + +A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been +recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran. +And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing +himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and +that Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances, +especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also +said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public +are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a +verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down +all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that +he would be captured before night. + +All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak +vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a +thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, +unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, +he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal +spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody +pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both +looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything +in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the +grisly spectacle before them. + +"Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to +grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This +was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His +hand is here." + +Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid +face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, +and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!" + +"Who? Who?" from twenty voices. + +"Muff Potter!" + +"Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!" + +People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't +trying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed. + +"Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a +quiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company." + +The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, +ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was +haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood +before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face +in his hands and burst into tears. + +"I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never +done it." + +"Who's accused you?" shouted a voice. + +This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked +around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, +and exclaimed: + +"Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--" + +"Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff. + +Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to +the ground. Then he said: + +"Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered; +then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell +'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more." + +Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the +stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every +moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, +and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had +finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to +break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and +vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and +it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that. + +"Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody +said. + +"I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to +run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell +to sobbing again. + +Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes +afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the +lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe +had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most +balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could +not take their fascinated eyes from his face. + +They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should +offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. + +Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a +wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd +that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy +circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were +disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: + +"It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." + +Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as +much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: + +"Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me +awake half the time." + +Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. + +"It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your +mind, Tom?" + +"Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he +spilled his coffee. + +"And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's +blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And +you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it +you'll tell?" + +Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might +have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's +face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: + +"Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night +myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." + +Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed +satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, +and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his +jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and +frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow +listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage +back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and +the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to +make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. + +It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding +inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his +mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, +though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; +he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was +strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a +marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he +could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out +of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. + +Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his +opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such +small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The +jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge +of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was +seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's +conscience. + +The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and +ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his +character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead +in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of +his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the +grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not +to try the case in the courts at present. + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret +troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest +itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had +struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the +wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's +house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she +should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an +interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there +was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; +there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to +try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are +infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of +producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in +these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a +fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, +but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the +"Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance +they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they +contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, +and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and +what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to +wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her +health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they +had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest +as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered +together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed +with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with +"hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an +angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering +neighbors. + +The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a +windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him +up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then +she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; +then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets +till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came +through his pores"--as Tom said. + +Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy +and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, +and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to +assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She +calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every +day with quack cure-alls. + +Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase +filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must +be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first +time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with +gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water +treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She +gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the +result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; +for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a +wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. + +Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be +romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have +too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he +thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of +professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he +became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself +and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no +misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the +bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, +but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a +crack in the sitting-room floor with it. + +One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow +cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging +for a taste. Tom said: + +"Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." + +But Peter signified that he did want it. + +"You better make sure." + +Peter was sure. + +"Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't +anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't +blame anybody but your own self." + +Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the +Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then +delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging +against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. +Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of +enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming +his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again +spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time +to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty +hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the +flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, +peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. + +"Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" + +"I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. + +"Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" + +"Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having +a good time." + +"They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom +apprehensive. + +"Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." + +"You DO?" + +"Yes'm." + +The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized +by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale +teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it +up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the +usual handle--his ear--and cracked his head soundly with her thimble. + +"Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?" + +"I done it out of pity for him--because he hadn't any aunt." + +"Hadn't any aunt!--you numskull. What has that got to do with it?" + +"Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a +roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a +human!" + +Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing +in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat MIGHT be cruelty to a boy, +too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, +and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently: + +"I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it DID do you good." + +Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping +through his gravity. + +"I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. +It done HIM good, too. I never see him get around so since--" + +"Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you +try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take +any more medicine." + +Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange +thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, +he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his +comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to +be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking--down the road. +Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed +a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom +accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about +Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and +watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the +owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks +ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered +the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock +passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next +instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, +chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing +handsprings, standing on his head--doing all the heroic things he could +conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if +Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it +all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that +he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came +war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the +schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every +direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost +upsetting her--and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard +her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart--always showing +off!" + +Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed +and crestfallen. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Part 3. +by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens) + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOM SAWYER, PART 3. *** + +***** This file should be named 7195.txt or 7195.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/7/1/9/7195/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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