Reading Help Adventures of Tom Sawyer Ch.XVI-XXXV
their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the `
` wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy `
` my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, `
` my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my `
` side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of `
` fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her `
` own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a `
` sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other `
` unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A `
` strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of `
` December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me `
` contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages `
` of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to `
` non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered `
` to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in `
` delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said `
` that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that `
` Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in `
` passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was `
` over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the `
` usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his `
` chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of `
` America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a `
` sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over `
` the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged `
` out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the `
` tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, `
` now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes `
` were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering `
` continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret `
` above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came `
` a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her `
` head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved `
` upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the `
` intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six `
` inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she `
` grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into `
` the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the `
` light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy `
` had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had `
` come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken `
` without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western `
` Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and `
` hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM `
` joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy `
` character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and `
` profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new `
` thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world `
` to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself `
` tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense `
` that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept `
` him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon `
` gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight `
` hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was `
` apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so `
` high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's `
` condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that `
` he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. `
` But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was `
` pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a `
` sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the `
` Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man `
` like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style `
` calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however `
` --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his `
` surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the `
` desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his `
` coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He `
` attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned `
` it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a `
` sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for `
` two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained `
` hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world `
` (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an `
` overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even `
` anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for `
` three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for `
` boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a `
` mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than `
` ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so `
` delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky `
` Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during `
` vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of `
` the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. `
` Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the `
` world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When `
` he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change `
` had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and `
` everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. `
` Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, `
` but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a `
` Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben `
` Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up `
` Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late `
` measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his `
` depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom `
` of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart `
` broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was `
` lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with `
` driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He `
` covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his `
` doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. `
` He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity `
` of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste `
` of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there `
` seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm `
` as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the `
` tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first `
` impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might `
` not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. `
` The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he `
` got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering `
` how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted `
` listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile `
` court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. `
` He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! `
` they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy `
` atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. `
` It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get `
` away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for `
` his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were `
` put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected `
` of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in `
` the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took `
` Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to `
` unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with `
` another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained `
` discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You `
` know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so `
` help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we `
` wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more `
` comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could `
` they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me `
` they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all `
` right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, `
` anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread `
` solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? `
` Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me `
` in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way `
` they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, `
` sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't `
` ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get `
` drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways `
` most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a `
` fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of `
` stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and `
` knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we `
` couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch `
` him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the `
` dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's `
` the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever `
` hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that `
` if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had `
` a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they `
` found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, `
` perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear `
` away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or `
` fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often `
` done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. `
` He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their `
` gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this `
` time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: `
` "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I `
` don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all `
` the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and `
` befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in `
` trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I `
` don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the `
` time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and `
` it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't `
` talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But `
` what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. `
` Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces `
` that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none `
` come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one `
` another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come `
` through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've `
` helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went `
` home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day `
` and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost `
` irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having `
` the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, `
` from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back `
` presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, `
` but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more `
` relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk `
` was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that `
` there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. `
` Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a `
` tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the `
` village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the `
` great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. `
` After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, `
` Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon `
` him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less `
` conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then `
` the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The `
` usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. `
` These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation `
` that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who `
` testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of `
`
` wildness of the scene. "At such a time, so dark, so dreary, for human sympathy `
` my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof, "'My dearest friend, my counsellor, `
` my comforter and guide--My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my `
` side. She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of `
` fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her `
` own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a `
` sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other `
` unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived--unsought. A `
` strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of `
` December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me `
` contemplate the two beings presented." This nightmare occupied some ten pages `
` of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to `
` non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered `
` to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in `
` delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said `
` that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that `
` Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it. It may be remarked, in `
` passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was `
` over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the `
` usual average. Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his `
` chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of `
` America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a `
` sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over `
` the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged `
` out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the `
` tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, `
` now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes `
` were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering `
` continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret `
` above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came `
` a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her `
` head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved `
` upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the `
` intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher--the cat was within six `
` inches of the absorbed teacher's head--down, down, a little lower, and she `
` grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into `
` the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the `
` light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate--for the sign-painter's boy `
` had GILDED it! That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had `
` come. NOTE:--The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken `
` without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western `
` Lady"--but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and `
` hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be. CHAPTER XXII TOM `
` joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy `
` character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and `
` profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new `
` thing--namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world `
` to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself `
` tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense `
` that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept `
` him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon `
` gave that up --gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight `
` hours--and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was `
` apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so `
` high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's `
` condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high--so high that `
` he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the looking-glass. `
` But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was `
` pronounced upon the mend--and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a `
` sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once--and that night the `
` Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man `
` like that again. The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style `
` calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however `
` --there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now--but found to his `
` surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the `
` desire away, and the charm of it. Tom presently wondered to find that his `
` coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands. He `
` attempted a diary--but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned `
` it. The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a `
` sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for `
` two days. Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained `
` hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world `
` (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an `
` overwhelming disappointment--for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even `
` anywhere in the neighborhood of it. A circus came. The boys played circus for `
` three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting--admission, three pins for `
` boys, two for girls--and then circusing was abandoned. A phrenologist and a `
` mesmerizer came--and went again and left the village duller and drearier than `
` ever. There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so `
` delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder. Becky `
` Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during `
` vacation--so there was no bright side to life anywhere. The dreadful secret of `
` the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain. `
` Then came the measles. During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the `
` world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When `
` he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change `
` had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and `
` everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. `
` Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, `
` but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a `
` Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben `
` Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up `
` Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late `
` measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his `
` depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom `
` of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart `
` broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was `
` lost, forever and forever. And that night there came on a terrific storm, with `
` driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He `
` covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his `
` doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. `
` He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity `
` of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste `
` of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there `
` seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm `
` as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself. By and by the `
` tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first `
` impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait--for there might `
` not be any more storms. The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. `
` The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he `
` got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering `
` how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted `
` listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile `
` court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. `
` He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! `
` they--like Tom--had suffered a relapse. CHAPTER XXIII AT last the sleepy `
` atmosphere was stirred--and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. `
` It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get `
` away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for `
` his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were `
` put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected `
` of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in `
` the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took `
` Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to `
` unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with `
` another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained `
` discreet. "Huck, have you ever told anybody about--that?" "'Bout what?" "You `
` know what." "Oh--'course I haven't." "Never a word?" "Never a solitary word, so `
` help me. What makes you ask?" "Well, I was afeard." "Why, Tom Sawyer, we `
` wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. YOU know that." Tom felt more `
` comfortable. After a pause: "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could `
` they?" "Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that half-breed devil to drownd me `
` they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way." "Well, that's all `
` right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum. But let's swear again, `
` anyway. It's more surer." "I'm agreed." So they swore again with dread `
` solemnities. "What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it." "Talk? `
` Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me `
` in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers." "That's just the same way `
` they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, `
` sometimes?" "Most always--most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't `
` ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get `
` drunk on--and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that--leastways `
` most of us--preachers and such like. But he's kind of good--he give me half a `
` fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of `
` stood by me when I was out of luck." "Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and `
` knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there." "My! we `
` couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch `
` him again." "Yes--so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the `
` dickens when he never done--that." "I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's `
` the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever `
` hung before." "Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that `
` if he was to get free they'd lynch him." "And they'd do it, too." The boys had `
` a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they `
` found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, `
` perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear `
` away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or `
` fairies interested in this luckless captive. The boys did as they had often `
` done before--went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. `
` He was on the ground floor and there were no guards. His gratitude for their `
` gifts had always smote their consciences before--it cut deeper than ever, this `
` time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said: `
` "You've been mighty good to me, boys--better'n anybody else in this town. And I `
` don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all `
` the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and `
` befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in `
` trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't--THEY don't forget him, says I, 'and I `
` don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing--drunk and crazy at the `
` time--that's the only way I account for it--and now I got to swing for it, and `
` it's right. Right, and BEST, too, I reckon--hope so, anyway. Well, we won't `
` talk about that. I don't want to make YOU feel bad; you've befriended me. But `
` what I want to say, is, don't YOU ever get drunk--then you won't ever get here. `
` Stand a litter furder west--so--that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces `
` that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none `
` come here but yourn. Good friendly faces--good friendly faces. Git up on one `
` another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands--yourn'll come `
` through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak--but they've `
` helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could." Tom went `
` home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day `
` and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost `
` irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having `
` the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, `
` from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back `
` presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the court-room, `
` but invariably heard distressing news--the toils were closing more and more `
` relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk `
` was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that `
` there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be. `
` Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a `
` tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the `
` village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the `
` great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. `
` After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, `
` Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon `
` him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less `
` conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then `
` the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The `
` usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. `
` These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation `
` that was as impressive as it was fascinating. Now a witness was called who `
` testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of `
`