THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER 11 страница

terrific lightning revelled in angry mood

through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming

to scorn the power exerted over its terror by

the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous

winds unanimously came forth from 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 the morning that the murder

was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. After some

further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said:

" Take the witness. "

The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when

his own counsel said:

" I have no questions to ask him. "

The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse.

Counsel for the prosecution said:

" Take the witness. "

" I have no questions to ask him, " Potter's lawyer replied.

A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's

possession.

" Take the witness. "

Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience

began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his

client's life without an effort?

Several witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when

brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the

stand without being cross-questioned.

Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the

graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was

brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were cross-examined

by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house

expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench.

Counsel for the prosecution now said:

" By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we

have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question,

upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here. "

A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and

rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in

the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion

testified itself in tears. Counsel for the defence rose and said:

" Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we

foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed

while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium

produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that

plea. " [Then to the clerk: ] " Call Thomas Sawyer! "

A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even

excepting Potter's. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest

upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked

wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered.

" Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the

hour of midnight? "

Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The

audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a

few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and

managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house

hear:

" In the graveyard! "

" A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were--"

" In the graveyard. "

A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face.

" Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave? "

" Yes, sir. "

" Speak up--just a trifle louder. How near were you? "

" Near as I am to you. "

" Were you hidden, or not? "

" I was hid. "

" Where? "

" Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave. "

Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start.

" Any one with you? "

" Yes, sir. I went there with--"

" Wait--wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We

will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with

you. "

Tom hesitated and looked confused.

" Speak out, my boy--don't be diffident. The truth is always

respectable. What did you take there? "

" Only a--a--dead cat. "

There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked.

" We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us

everything that occurred--tell it in your own way--don't skip anything,

and don't be afraid. "

Tom began--hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his

words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased

but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips

and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of

time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon

pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said:

" --and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell,

Injun Joe jumped with the knife and--"

Crash! Quick as lightning the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his

way through all opposers, and was gone!

CHAPTER XXIV

TOM was a glittering hero once more--the pet of the old, the envy of

the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village

paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be

President, yet, if he escaped hanging.

As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom

and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort

of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find

fault with it.

Tom's days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights

were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always

with doom in his eye. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to

stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was in the same state of

wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer

the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid

that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding

Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court.

The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of

that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the

lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been

sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's

confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated.

Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly

he wished he had sealed up his tongue.

Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the

other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw

a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse.

Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun

Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a

detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head,

looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of

that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he " found a clew. " But you

can't hang a " clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got

through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before.

The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened

weight of apprehension.

CHAPTER XXV

THERE comes a time in every rightly-constructed boy's life when he has

a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This

desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe

Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone

fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck

would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to

him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a

hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no

capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time

which is not money. " Where'll we dig? " said Huck.

" Oh, most anywhere. "

" Why, is it hid all around? "

" No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck

--sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a

limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but

mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses. "

" Who hides it? "

" Why, robbers, of course--who'd you reckon? Sunday-school

sup'rintendents? "

" I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have

a good time. "

" So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and

leave it there. "

" Don't they come after it any more? "

" No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or

else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by

and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the

marks--a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's

mostly signs and hy'roglyphics. "

" HyroQwhich? "

" Hy'roglyphics--pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean

anything. "

" Have you got one of them papers, Tom? "

" No. "

" Well then, how you going to find the marks? "