Reading Help Adventures of Tom Sawyer Ch.XVI-XXXV
Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, there's `
` footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but `
` not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the `
` rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck `
` with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four `
` inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig `
` and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had `
` concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held `
` his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the `
` end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the `
` narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the `
` right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, `
` by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the `
` treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty `
` powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old `
` moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the `
` water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins `
` with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. `
` It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool `
` around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed `
` about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not `
` carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was `
` heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to `
` think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and `
` the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," `
` said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we `
` go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies `
` there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But `
` robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come `
` along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm `
` hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently `
` emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast `
` clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped `
` toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore `
` through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly `
` after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the `
` widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and `
` divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be `
` safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny `
` Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently `
` returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags `
` on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys `
` reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to `
` move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom `
` Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. `
` Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light `
` as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I `
` judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time `
` hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would `
` to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, `
` hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; `
` you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some `
` apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we `
` haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, `
` my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. `
` Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want `
` to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind `
` before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' `
` drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place `
` was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village `
` was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, `
` Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in `
` their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well `
` receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. `
` Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at `
` Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: `
` "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck `
` right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did `
` just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a `
` bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of `
` clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, `
` Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get `
` into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she `
` left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The `
` window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" `
` "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going `
` down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll `
` take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for `
` you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been `
` fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, `
` Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, `
` anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time `
` it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her `
` out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to `
` know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on `
` the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a `
` secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the `
` widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck `
` should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you `
` know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the `
` widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, `
` but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and `
` satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. `
` SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean `
` enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' `
` sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any `
` but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. `
` There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him `
` to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and `
` to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the `
` supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the `
` same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time `
` Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor `
` she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person `
` whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share `
` in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the `
` surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and `
` effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow `
` made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so `
` much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable `
` discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being `
` set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow `
` said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and `
` that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest `
` way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing `
` but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and `
` proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little `
` awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's `
` got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a `
` minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a `
` perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what `
` ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy `
` out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt `
` Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the `
` table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of `
` it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke `
` for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he `
` could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There `
` was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When `
` he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise `
` for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing `
` mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to `
` a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had `
` ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth `
` considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest `
` satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little `
` village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to `
` incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of `
` many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. `
` Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was `
` dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden `
` treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of `
` them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The `
` boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; `
` but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed `
` somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of `
` doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up `
` and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper `
` published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money `
` out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt `
` Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a `
` dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what `
` the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't `
` collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy `
` in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. `
` Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no `
` commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky `
` told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at `
` school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty `
` lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to `
` his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a `
` magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down `
` through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about `
` the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as `
` when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight `
` off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a `
` great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be `
` admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law `
` school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or `
` both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' `
` protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him `
` into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's `
` servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him `
` nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he `
` could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and `
` fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to `
` go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his `
` mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him `
` in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and `
` then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him `
` everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they `
` searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third `
` morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down `
` behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. `
` Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of `
` food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, `
` uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque `
` in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the `
` trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its `
` tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, `
` Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I `
` ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them `
` ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me `
` wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I `
` got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to `
` any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set `
` down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door `
` for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I `
` hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to `
` wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; `
` she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." `
`
` footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but `
` not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the `
` rock. I'm going to dig in the clay." "That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck `
` with animation. Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four `
` inches before he struck wood. "Hey, Huck!--you hear that?" Huck began to dig `
` and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had `
` concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held `
` his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the `
` end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the `
` narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the `
` right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, `
` by-and-by, and exclaimed: "My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!" It was the `
` treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty `
` powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old `
` moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the `
` water-drip. "Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins `
` with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!" "Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. `
` It's just too good to believe, but we HAVE got it, sure! Say--let's not fool `
` around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box." It weighed `
` about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not `
` carry it conveniently. "I thought so," he said; "THEY carried it like it was `
` heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to `
` think of fetching the little bags along." The money was soon in the bags and `
` the boys took it up to the cross rock. "Now less fetch the guns and things," `
` said Huck. "No, Huck--leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we `
` go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies `
` there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies." "What orgies?" "I dono. But `
` robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come `
` along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm `
` hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff." They presently `
` emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast `
` clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped `
` toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore `
` through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly `
` after dark. "Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the `
` widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and `
` divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be `
` safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny `
` Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute." He disappeared, and presently `
` returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags `
` on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys `
` reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to `
` move on, the Welshman stepped out and said: "Hallo, who's that?" "Huck and Tom `
` Sawyer." "Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. `
` Here--hurry up, trot ahead--I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light `
` as it might be. Got bricks in it?--or old metal?" "Old metal," said Tom. "I `
` judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time `
` hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would `
` to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature--hurry along, `
` hurry along!" The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about. "Never mind; `
` you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'." Huck said with some `
` apprehension--for he was long used to being falsely accused: "Mr. Jones, we `
` haven't been doing nothing." The Welshman laughed. "Well, I don't know, Huck, `
` my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?" "Yes. `
` Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway." "All right, then. What do you want `
` to be afraid for?" This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind `
` before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' `
` drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed. The place `
` was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village `
` was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, `
` Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in `
` their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well `
` receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. `
` Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at `
` Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said: `
` "Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck `
` right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry." "And you did `
` just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys." She took them to a `
` bedchamber and said: "Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of `
` clothes --shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's--no, no thanks, `
` Huck--Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get `
` into them. We'll wait--come down when you are slicked up enough." Then she `
` left. CHAPTER XXXIV HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The `
` window ain't high from the ground." "Shucks! what do you want to slope for?" `
` "Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going `
` down there, Tom." "Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll `
` take care of you." Sid appeared. "Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for `
` you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been `
` fretting about you. Say--ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?" "Now, `
` Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, `
` anyway?" "It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time `
` it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her `
` out of the other night. And say--I can tell you something, if you want to `
` know." "Well, what?" "Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on `
` the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a `
` secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows --the `
` widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck `
` should be here--couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you `
` know!" "Secret about what, Sid?" "About Huck tracking the robbers to the `
` widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, `
` but I bet you it will drop pretty flat." Sid chuckled in a very contented and `
` satisfied way. "Sid, was it you that told?" "Oh, never mind who it was. `
` SOMEBODY told--that's enough." "Sid, there's only one person in this town mean `
` enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' `
` sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any `
` but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. `
` There--no thanks, as the widow says"--and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him `
` to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare--and `
` to-morrow you'll catch it!" Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the `
` supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the `
` same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time `
` Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor `
` she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person `
` whose modesty-- And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share `
` in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the `
` surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and `
` effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow `
` made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so `
` much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable `
` discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being `
` set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations. The widow `
` said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and `
` that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest `
` way. Tom's chance was come. He said: "Huck don't need it. Huck's rich." Nothing `
` but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and `
` proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little `
` awkward. Tom broke it: "Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's `
` got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile--I reckon I can show you. You just wait a `
` minute." Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a `
` perplexed interest--and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied. "Sid, what `
` ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He--well, there ain't ever any making of that boy `
` out. I never--" Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt `
` Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the `
` table and said: "There--what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of `
` it's mine!" The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke `
` for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he `
` could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There `
` was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When `
` he had finished, Mr. Jones said: "I thought I had fixed up a little surprise `
` for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing `
` mighty small, I'm willing to allow." The money was counted. The sum amounted to `
` a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had `
` ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth `
` considerably more than that in property. CHAPTER XXXV THE reader may rest `
` satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little `
` village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to `
` incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of `
` many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. `
` Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was `
` dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden `
` treasure--and not by boys, but men--pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of `
` them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The `
` boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; `
` but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed `
` somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of `
` doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up `
` and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper `
` published biographical sketches of the boys. The Widow Douglas put Huck's money `
` out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt `
` Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious--a `
` dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what `
` the minister got --no, it was what he was promised--he generally couldn't `
` collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy `
` in those old simple days--and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter. `
` Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no `
` commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky `
` told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at `
` school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty `
` lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to `
` his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a `
` magnanimous lie--a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down `
` through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about `
` the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as `
` when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight `
` off and told Tom about it. Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a `
` great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be `
` admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law `
` school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or `
` both. Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' `
` protection introduced him into society--no, dragged him into it, hurled him `
` into it--and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's `
` servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him `
` nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he `
` could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and `
` fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to `
` go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his `
` mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him `
` in and bound him hand and foot. He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and `
` then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him `
` everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they `
` searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third `
` morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down `
` behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. `
` Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of `
` food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, `
` uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque `
` in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the `
` trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its `
` tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said: "Don't talk about it, `
` Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I `
` ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them `
` ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me `
` wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I `
` got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to `
` any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set `
` down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door `
` for--well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat--I `
` hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to `
` wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; `
` she gits up by a bell--everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it." `
`