THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER 4 страница

and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor

put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything

that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every

harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg.

Tom hailed the romantic outcast:

" Hello, Huckleberry! "

" Hello yourself, and see how you like it. "

" What's that you got? "

" Dead cat. "

" Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him? "

" Bought him off'n a boy. "

" What did you give? "

" I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house. "

" Where'd you get the blue ticket? "

" Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick. "

" Say--what is dead cats good for, Huck? "

" Good for? Cure warts with. "

" No! Is that so? I know something that's better. "

" I bet you don't. What is it? "

" Why, spunk-water. "

" Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water. "

" You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it? "

" No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did. "

" Who told you so! "

" Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny

told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and

the nigger told me. There now! "

" Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I

don't know HIM. But I never see a nigger that WOULDN'T lie. Shucks! Now

you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck. "

" Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the

rain-water was. "

" In the daytime? "

" Certainly. "

" With his face to the stump? "

" Yes. Least I reckon so. "

" Did he say anything? "

" I don't reckon he did. I don't know. "

" Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame

fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go

all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a

spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the

stump and jam your hand in and say:

'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts,

Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts, '

and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then

turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody.

Because if you speak the charm's busted. "

" Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner

done. "

" No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this

town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work

spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way,

Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many

warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean. "

" Yes, bean's good. I've done that. "

" Have you? What's your way? "

" You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some

blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and

dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of

the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece

that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to

fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the

wart, and pretty soon off she comes. "

" Yes, that's it, Huck--that's it; though when you're burying it if you

say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me! ' it's better.

That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and

most everywheres. But say--how do you cure 'em with dead cats? "

" Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about

midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's

midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see

'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk;

and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em

and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm

done with ye! ' That'll fetch ANY wart. "

" Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck? "

" No, but old Mother Hopkins told me. "

" Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch. "

" Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own

self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he

took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that

very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke

his arm. "

" Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him? "

" Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you

right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz

when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards. "

" Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat? "

" To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night. "

" But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night? "

" Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight? --and

THEN it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't

reckon. "

" I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you? "

" Of course--if you ain't afeard. "

" Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow? "

" Yes--and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me

a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says

'Dern that cat! ' and so I hove a brick through his window--but don't

you tell. "

" I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me,

but I'll meow this time. Say--what's that? "

" Nothing but a tick. "

" Where'd you get him? "

" Out in the woods. "

" What'll you take for him? "

" I don't know. I don't want to sell him. "

" All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway. "

" Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm

satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me. "

" Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I

wanted to. "

" Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a

pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year. "

" Say, Huck--I'll give you my tooth for him. "

" Less see it. "

Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry

viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said:

" Is it genuwyne? "

Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy.

" Well, all right, " said Huckleberry, " it's a trade. "

Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been

the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier

than before.

When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in

briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed.

He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with

business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great

splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study.

The interruption roused him.

" Thomas Sawyer! "

Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble.

" Sir! "

" Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual? "

Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of

yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric

sympathy of love; and by that form was THE ONLY VACANT PLACE on the

girls' side of the schoolhouse. He instantly said:

" I STOPPED TO TALK WITH HUCKLEBERRY FINN! "

The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of

study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his

mind. The master said:

" You--you did what? "

" Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn. "

There was no mistaking the words.

" Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever

listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your

jacket. "

The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of

switches notably diminished. Then the order followed:

" Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you. "

The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but

in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of

his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good

fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl

hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks

and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon

the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book.

By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur

rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal

furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, " made a mouth" at him and

gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she

cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it

away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less

animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it

remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, " Please take it--I got more. " The

girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw

something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time

the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to

manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on,

apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of noncommittal attempt to

see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she

gave in and hesitatingly whispered:

" Let me see it. "

Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable

ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the

girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot

everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then

whispered:

" It's nice--make a man. "

The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick.

He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not

hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered:

" It's a beautiful man--now make me coming along. "

Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and

armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said:

" It's ever so nice--I wish I could draw. "

" It's easy, " whispered Tom, " I'll learn you. "

" Oh, will you? When? "

" At noon. Do you go home to dinner? "

" I'll stay if you will. "

" Good--that's a whack. What's your name? "

" Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer. "

" That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me

Tom, will you? "

" Yes. "

Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from

the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom

said:

" Oh, it ain't anything. "

" Yes it is. "

" No it ain't. You don't want to see. "

" Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me. "

" You'll tell. "

" No I won't--deed and deed and double deed won't. "

" You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live? "

" No, I won't ever tell ANYbody. Now let me. "

" Oh, YOU don't want to see! "

" Now that you treat me so, I WILL see. " And she put her small hand

upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in

earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were

revealed: " I LOVE YOU. "

" Oh, you bad thing! " And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened

and looked pleased, nevertheless.

Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his

ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that vise he was borne across the

house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles

from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few

awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a

word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant.

As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the

turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the

reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and

turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into

continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and

got " turned down, " by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought

up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with

ostentation for months.

CHAPTER VII

THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his

ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It

seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was

utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of

sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying

scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees.

Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green

sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of

distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other

living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's

heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to

pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face

lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know

it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the

tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed

with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it

was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned

him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction.

Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and

now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an

instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn

friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a

pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner.

The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were

interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of

the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the

middle of it from top to bottom.

" Now, " said he, " as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and

I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side,

you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over. "

" All right, go ahead; start him up. "

The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe

harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This

change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with

absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong,

the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to

all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The

tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as

anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would

have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be

twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep

possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was

too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was

angry in a moment. Said he:

" Tom, you let him alone. "

" I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe. "

" No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone. "

" Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much. "

" Let him alone, I tell you. "

" I won't! "

" You shall--he's on my side of the line. "

" Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick? "

" I don't care whose tick he is--he's on my side of the line, and you

sha'n't touch him. "

" Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I

blame please with him, or die! "

A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on

Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from

the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too

absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile

before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over

them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he

contributed his bit of variety to it.

When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and

whispered in her ear:

" Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to

the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the

lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same

way. "

So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with

another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and

when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they

sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil

and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising

house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking.

Tom was swimming in bliss. He said:

" Do you love rats? "

" No! I hate them! "

" Well, I do, too--LIVE ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your

head with a string. "

" No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum. "

" Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now. "

" Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give

it back to me. "

That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their

legs against the bench in excess of contentment.

" Was you ever at a circus? " said Tom.

" Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good. "

" I been to the circus three or four times--lots of times. Church ain't

shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time.

I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up. "

" Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up. "

" Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money--most a dollar a day,

Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged? "

" What's that? "

" Why, engaged to be married. "

" No. "

" Would you like to? "

" I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like? "

" Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't

ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's

all. Anybody can do it. "

" Kiss? What do you kiss for? "

" Why, that, you know, is to--well, they always do that. "

" Everybody? "

" Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember

what I wrote on the slate? "

" Ye--yes. "

" What was it? "

" I sha'n't tell you. "

" Shall I tell YOU? "

" Ye--yes--but some other time. "

" No, now. "

" No, not now--to-morrow. "

" Oh, no, NOW. Please, Becky--I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so

easy. "

Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm

about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth

close to her ear. And then he added:

" Now you whisper it to me--just the same. "

She resisted, for a while, and then said:

" You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you

mustn't ever tell anybody--WILL you, Tom? Now you won't, WILL you? "

" No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky. "

He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath

stirred his curls and whispered, " I--love--you! "

Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches,

with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her

little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and

pleaded:

" Now, Becky, it's all done--all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid

of that--it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky. " And he tugged at her

apron and the hands.

By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing

with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and

said:

" Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't

ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but

me, ever never and forever. Will you? "

" No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry

anybody but you--and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either. "

" Certainly. Of course. That's PART of it. And always coming to school

or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't

anybody looking--and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because

that's the way you do when you're engaged. "

" It's so nice. I never heard of it before. "

" Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence--"

The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused.

" Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to! "

The child began to cry. Tom said:

" Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more. "

" Yes, you do, Tom--you know you do. "

Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and

turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with

soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was

up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and

uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping

she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began

to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle

with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and

entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with

her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a

moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly:

" Becky, I--I don't care for anybody but you. "

No reply--but sobs.

" Becky" --pleadingly. " Becky, won't you say something? "

More sobs.

Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an

andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said:

" Please, Becky, won't you take it? "

She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over

the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently

Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she

flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called:

" Tom! Come back, Tom! "

She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions

but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid

herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she

had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross

of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers

about her to exchange sorrows with.

CHAPTER VIII

TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of

the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He

crossed a small " branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing