Reading Help Adventures of Tom Sawyer Ch.XVI-XXXV
leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening `
` twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose `
` up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between `
` the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground `
` again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did `
` not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill `
` luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe `
` never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to `
` wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the `
` misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the `
` tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that `
` Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his `
` revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a `
` ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, `
` don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they `
` entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody `
` else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had `
` testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! `
` Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE `
` adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he `
` had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in `
` his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality `
` of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of `
` his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far `
` away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone `
` by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! `
` There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the `
` quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much `
` as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and `
` station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and `
` "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really `
` existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as `
` a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If `
` his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to `
` consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable `
` dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer `
` under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself `
` leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after `
` all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast `
` and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly `
` dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to `
` let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would `
` be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, `
` for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' `
` got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! `
` Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, `
` that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs `
` hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough `
` all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot `
` him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. `
` A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd `
` feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to `
` see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, `
` that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What `
` do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number `
` of a house!" "Goody! ... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this `
` one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a `
` minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's `
` the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, `
` Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company `
` in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, `
` No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In `
` the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son `
` said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or `
` come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this `
` state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had `
` made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that `
` room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night `
` before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're `
` after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom `
` thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 `
` is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and `
` the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you `
` can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there `
` and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was `
` going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his `
` revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, `
` that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, `
` it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never `
` think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I `
` dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might `
` 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that `
` money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now `
` you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT `
` night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the `
` neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a `
` distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; `
` nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night `
` promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a `
` considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon `
` he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck `
` closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. `
` Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night `
` promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin `
` lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's `
` sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed `
` up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had `
` been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The `
` blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by `
` occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the `
` hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the `
` gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. `
` Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits `
` like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it `
` would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It `
` seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he `
` was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his `
` uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing `
` all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to `
` happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he `
` seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear `
` itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom `
` came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have `
` repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour `
` before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the `
` shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as `
` they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon `
` as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, `
` just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I `
` couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, `
` either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and `
` open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, `
` and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped `
` onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the `
` floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did `
` you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed `
` that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I `
` would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see `
` that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't `
` see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by `
` Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you `
` see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted `
` with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, `
` Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But `
` say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It `
` is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon `
` not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been `
` three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for `
` reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any `
` more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch `
` every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then `
` we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the `
` whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part `
` of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street `
` a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and `
` that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, `
` and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back `
` and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt `
` that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all `
` night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' `
` hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water `
` for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a `
` little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. `
` He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set `
` right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do `
` things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, `
` if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering `
` around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around `
` and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad `
` piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. `
` Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, `
` and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had `
` an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of `
` their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly `
` satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the `
` long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight `
` was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out `
` before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into `
` a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled `
` him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing `
` Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers `
` with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning `
` came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company `
` were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was `
` not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The `
` children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of `
` eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old `
` steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed `
` up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss `
` the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher `
` said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay `
` all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." `
` "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave `
` yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said `
` to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's `
` we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have `
` ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful `
` glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and `
` said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the `
` idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But `
` shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that `
` you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of `
` it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting `
` bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to `
` say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom `
` that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought `
` took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to `
` give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he `
` reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any `
` more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the `
` uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger `
`
` twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box. Tom and Huck rose `
` up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between `
` the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground `
` again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did `
` not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves--hating the ill `
` luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe `
` never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to `
` wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the `
` misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the `
` tools were ever brought there! They resolved to keep a lookout for that `
` Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his `
` revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a `
` ghastly thought occurred to Tom. "Revenge? What if he means US, Huck!" "Oh, `
` don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting. They talked it all over, and as they `
` entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody `
` else--at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had `
` testified. Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! `
` Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought. CHAPTER XXVII THE `
` adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he `
` had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in `
` his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality `
` of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of `
` his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far `
` away--somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone `
` by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! `
` There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea--namely, that the `
` quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much `
` as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and `
` station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and `
` "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really `
` existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as `
` a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If `
` his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to `
` consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable `
` dollars. But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer `
` under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself `
` leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after `
` all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast `
` and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly `
` dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to `
` let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would `
` be proved to have been only a dream. "Hello, Huck!" "Hello, yourself." Silence, `
` for a minute. "Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' `
` got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!" "'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! `
` Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck." "What ain't a dream?" "Oh, `
` that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was." "Dream! If them stairs `
` hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough `
` all night--with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em--rot `
` him!" "No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!" "Tom, we'll never find him. `
` A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile--and that one's lost. I'd `
` feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway." "Well, so'd I; but I'd like to `
` see him, anyway--and track him out--to his Number Two." "Number Two--yes, `
` that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What `
` do you reckon it is?" "I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck--maybe it's the number `
` of a house!" "Goody! ... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this `
` one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here." "Well, that's so. Lemme think a `
` minute. Here--it's the number of a room--in a tavern, you know!" "Oh, that's `
` the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick." "You stay here, `
` Huck, till I come." Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company `
` in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, `
` No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In `
` the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son `
` said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or `
` come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this `
` state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had `
` made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that `
` room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night `
` before. "That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're `
` after." "I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?" "Lemme think." Tom `
` thought a long time. Then he said: "I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 `
` is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and `
` the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you `
` can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there `
` and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was `
` going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his `
` revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, `
` that ain't the place." "Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!" "Why, `
` it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you--and if he did, maybe he'd never `
` think anything." "Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono--I `
` dono. I'll try." "You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might `
` 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that `
` money." "It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!" "Now `
` you're TALKING! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't." CHAPTER XXVIII THAT `
` night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the `
` neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a `
` distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; `
` nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night `
` promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a `
` considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon `
` he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck `
` closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve. `
` Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night `
` promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin `
` lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's `
` sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed `
` up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had `
` been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The `
` blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by `
` occasional mutterings of distant thunder. Tom got his lantern, lit it in the `
` hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the `
` gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. `
` Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits `
` like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern--it `
` would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It `
` seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he `
` was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his `
` uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing `
` all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to `
` happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he `
` seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear `
` itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom `
` came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!" He needn't have `
` repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour `
` before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the `
` shed of a deserted slaughter-house at the lower end of the village. Just as `
` they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon `
` as Tom got his breath he said: "Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, `
` just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I `
` couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, `
` either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and `
` open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, `
` and, GREAT CAESAR'S GHOST!" "What!--what'd you see, Tom?" "Huck, I most stepped `
` onto Injun Joe's hand!" "No!" "Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the `
` floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out." "Lordy, what did `
` you do? Did he wake up?" "No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed `
` that towel and started!" "I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!" "Well, I `
` would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it." "Say, Tom, did you see `
` that box?" "Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't `
` see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by `
` Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you `
` see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?" "How?" "Why, it's ha'nted `
` with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, `
` Huck?" "Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But `
` say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk." "It `
` is, that! You try it!" Huck shuddered. "Well, no--I reckon not." "And I reckon `
` not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been `
` three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it." There was a long pause for `
` reflection, and then Tom said: "Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any `
` more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch `
` every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then `
` we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning." "Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the `
` whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part `
` of the job." "All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street `
` a block and maow--and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and `
` that'll fetch me." "Agreed, and good as wheat!" "Now, Huck, the storm's over, `
` and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back `
` and watch that long, will you?" "I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt `
` that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all `
` night." "That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?" "In Ben Rogers' `
` hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water `
` for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a `
` little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. `
` He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set `
` right down and eat WITH him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do `
` things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing." "Well, `
` if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering `
` around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around `
` and maow." CHAPTER XXIX THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad `
` piece of news --Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. `
` Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, `
` and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had `
` an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of `
` their school-mates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly `
` satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the `
` long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight `
` was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out `
` before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into `
` a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled `
` him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing `
` Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers `
` with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night. Morning `
` came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company `
` were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was `
` not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The `
` children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of `
` eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old `
` steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed `
` up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss `
` the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher `
` said to Becky, was: "You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay `
` all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child." `
` "Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma." "Very well. And mind and behave `
` yourself and don't be any trouble." Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said `
` to Becky: "Say--I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's `
` we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have `
` ice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll be awful `
` glad to have us." "Oh, that will be fun!" Then Becky reflected a moment and `
` said: "But what will mamma say?" "How'll she ever know?" The girl turned the `
` idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly: "I reckon it's wrong--but--" "But `
` shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that `
` you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of `
` it. I know she would!" The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting `
` bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to `
` say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom `
` that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought `
` took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to `
` give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he `
` reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any `
` more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the `
` uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger `
`