Reading Help Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain Ch.I-XV
lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe `
` had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most `
` balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could `
` not take their fascinated eyes from his face. `
` `
` They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should `
` offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. `
` `
` Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a `
` wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd `
` that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy `
` circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were `
` disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: `
` `
` "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." `
` `
` Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as `
` much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: `
` `
` "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me `
` awake half the time." `
` `
` Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. `
` `
` "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your `
` mind, Tom?" `
` `
` "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he `
` spilled his coffee. `
` `
` "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's `
` blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And `
` you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it `
` you'll tell?" `
` `
` Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might `
` have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's `
` face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: `
` `
` "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night `
` myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." `
` `
` Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed `
` satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, `
` and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his `
` jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and `
` frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow `
` listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage `
` back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and `
` the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to `
` make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. `
` `
` It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding `
` inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his `
` mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, `
` though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; `
` he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was `
` strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a `
` marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he `
` could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out `
` of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. `
` `
` Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his `
` opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such `
` small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The `
` jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge `
` of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was `
` seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's `
` conscience. `
` `
` The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and `
` ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his `
` character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead `
` in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of `
` his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the `
` grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not `
` to try the case in the courts at present. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER XII `
` `
` ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret `
` troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest `
` itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had `
` struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the `
` wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's `
` house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she `
` should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an `
` interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there `
` was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; `
` there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to `
` try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are `
` infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of `
` producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in `
` these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a `
` fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, `
` but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the `
` "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance `
` they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they `
` contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, `
` and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and `
` what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to `
` wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her `
` health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they `
` had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest `
` as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered `
` together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed `
` with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with `
` "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an `
` angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering `
` neighbors. `
` `
` The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a `
` windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him `
` up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then `
` she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; `
` then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets `
` till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came `
` through his pores"--as Tom said. `
` `
` Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy `
` and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, `
` and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to `
` assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She `
` calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every `
` day with quack cure-alls. `
` `
` Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase `
` filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must `
` be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first `
` time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with `
` gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water `
` treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She `
` gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the `
` result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; `
` for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a `
` wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. `
` `
` Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be `
` romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have `
` too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he `
` thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of `
` professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he `
` became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself `
` and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no `
` misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the `
` bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, `
` but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a `
` crack in the sitting-room floor with it. `
` `
` One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow `
` cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging `
` for a taste. Tom said: `
` `
` "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." `
` `
` But Peter signified that he did want it. `
` `
` "You better make sure." `
` `
` Peter was sure. `
` `
` "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't `
` anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't `
` blame anybody but your own self." `
` `
` Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the `
` Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then `
` delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging `
` against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. `
` Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of `
` enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming `
` his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again `
` spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time `
` to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty `
` hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the `
` flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, `
` peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. `
` `
` "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" `
` `
` "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. `
` `
` "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" `
` `
` "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having `
` a good time." `
` `
` "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom `
` apprehensive. `
` `
` "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." `
` `
` "You DO?" `
` `
` "Yes'm." `
` `
` The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized `
` by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale `
` teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it `
`
` had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most `
` balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could `
` not take their fascinated eyes from his face. `
` `
` They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should `
` offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master. `
` `
` Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a `
` wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd `
` that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy `
` circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were `
` disappointed, for more than one villager remarked: `
` `
` "It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it." `
` `
` Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as `
` much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said: `
` `
` "Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me `
` awake half the time." `
` `
` Tom blanched and dropped his eyes. `
` `
` "It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your `
` mind, Tom?" `
` `
` "Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he `
` spilled his coffee. `
` `
` "And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's `
` blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And `
` you said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is it `
` you'll tell?" `
` `
` Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might `
` have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's `
` face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said: `
` `
` "Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night `
` myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it." `
` `
` Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed `
` satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, `
` and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his `
` jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and `
` frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow `
` listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage `
` back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and `
` the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to `
` make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself. `
` `
` It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding `
` inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his `
` mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, `
` though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; `
` he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that was `
` strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a `
` marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he `
` could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out `
` of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience. `
` `
` Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his `
` opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such `
` small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The `
` jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge `
` of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was `
` seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's `
` conscience. `
` `
` The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and `
` ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his `
` character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead `
` in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of `
` his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the `
` grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not `
` to try the case in the courts at present. `
` `
` `
` `
` CHAPTER XII `
` `
` ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret `
` troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest `
` itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had `
` struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the `
` wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's `
` house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she `
` should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an `
` interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there `
` was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; `
` there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to `
` try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are `
` infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of `
` producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in `
` these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a `
` fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, `
` but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the `
` "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance `
` they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they `
` contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, `
` and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and `
` what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to `
` wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her `
` health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they `
` had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest `
` as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered `
` together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed `
` with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with `
` "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an `
` angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering `
` neighbors. `
` `
` The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a `
` windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him `
` up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then `
` she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; `
` then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets `
` till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came `
` through his pores"--as Tom said. `
` `
` Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy `
` and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, `
` and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to `
` assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blister-plasters. She `
` calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every `
` day with quack cure-alls. `
` `
` Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase `
` filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must `
` be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first `
` time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with `
` gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water `
` treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She `
` gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the `
` result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; `
` for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a `
` wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him. `
` `
` Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be `
` romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have `
` too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he `
` thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of `
` professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he `
` became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself `
` and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no `
` misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the `
` bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, `
` but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a `
` crack in the sitting-room floor with it. `
` `
` One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow `
` cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging `
` for a taste. Tom said: `
` `
` "Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter." `
` `
` But Peter signified that he did want it. `
` `
` "You better make sure." `
` `
` Peter was sure. `
` `
` "Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't `
` anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't `
` blame anybody but your own self." `
` `
` Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the `
` Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then `
` delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging `
` against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. `
` Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of `
` enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming `
` his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again `
` spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time `
` to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty `
` hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the `
` flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, `
` peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter. `
` `
` "Tom, what on earth ails that cat?" `
` `
` "I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy. `
` `
` "Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?" `
` `
` "Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having `
` a good time." `
` `
` "They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom `
` apprehensive. `
` `
` "Yes'm. That is, I believe they do." `
` `
` "You DO?" `
` `
` "Yes'm." `
` `
` The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized `
` by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale `
` teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it `
`