THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER 15 страница

" Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want

to come back! No--I can't find the way. It's all mixed up. "

" Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful

place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others! "

She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom

was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He

sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his

bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing

regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom

begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell

to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable

situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope

again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he

would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than

she, she said.

So they moved on again--aimlessly--simply at random--all they could do

was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of

reviving--not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its

nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age

and familiarity with failure.

By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant

so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died

again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in

his pockets--yet he must economize.

By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to

pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time

was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any

direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down

was to invite death and shorten its pursuit.

At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat

down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends

there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried,

and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his

encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like

sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to

sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it

grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and

by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected

somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts

wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in

his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh--but it was

stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it.

" Oh, how COULD I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I

don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again. "

" I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find

the way out. "

" We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream.

I reckon we are going there. "

" Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying. "

They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried

to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was

that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not

be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this--they

could not tell how long--Tom said they must go softly and listen for

dripping water--they must find a spring. They found one presently, and

Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky

said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to

hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom

fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay.

Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke

the silence:

" Tom, I am so hungry! "

Tom took something out of his pocket.

" Do you remember this? " said he.

Becky almost smiled.

" It's our wedding-cake, Tom. "

" Yes--I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got. "

" I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up

people do with wedding-cake--but it'll be our--"

She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky

ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was

abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky

suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he

said:

" Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something? "

Becky's face paled, but she thought she could.

" Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink.

That little piece is our last candle! "

Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to

comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said:

" Tom! "

" Well, Becky? "

" They'll miss us and hunt for us! "

" Yes, they will! Certainly they will! "

" Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom. "

" Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are. "

" When would they miss us, Tom? "

" When they get back to the boat, I reckon. "

" Tom, it might be dark then--would they notice we hadn't come? "

" I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they

got home. "

A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw

that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night!

The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of

grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers

also--that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher

discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's.

The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched

it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand

alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin

column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then--the horror of

utter darkness reigned!

How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that

she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew

was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of

a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said

it might be Sunday, now--maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk,

but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said

that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was

going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it;

but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he

tried it no more.

The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again.

A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it.

But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only

whetted desire.

By-and-by Tom said:

" SH! Did you hear that? "

Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the

faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky

by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction.

Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently

a little nearer.

" It's them! " said Tom; " they're coming! Come along, Becky--we're all

right now! "

The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was

slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be

guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be

three feet deep, it might be a hundred--there was no passing it at any

rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could.

No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They

listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a

moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking

misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He

talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no

sounds came again.

The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time

dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom

believed it must be Tuesday by this time.

Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It

would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the

heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to

a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the

line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended

in a " jumping-off place. " Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and

then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands

conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the

right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding

a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout,

and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to--Injun

Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified

the next moment, to see the " Spaniard" take to his heels and get

himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his

voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the

echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he

reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to

himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he

would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of

meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was

he had seen. He told her he had only shouted " for luck. "

But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run.

Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought

changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed

that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now,

and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another

passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But

Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be

roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die--it would

not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he

chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak

to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he

would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over.

Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a

show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the

cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one

of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick

with bodings of coming doom.

CHAPTER XXXII

TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St.

Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public

prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private

prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good

news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the

quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain

the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a

great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to

hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute

at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had

drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost

white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn.

Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village

bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad

people, who shouted, " Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're

found! " Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed

itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open

carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its

homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring

huzzah after huzzah!

The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the

greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour

a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized

the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to

speak but couldn't--and drifted out raining tears all over the place.

Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It

would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with

the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay

upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of

the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it

withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on

an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his

kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of

the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off

speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it,

pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad

Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would

not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that

passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good

news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was

tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he

labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when

she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how

he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat

there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom

hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition;

how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, " because, " said they,

" you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in"

--then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them

rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home.

Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him

were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung

behind them, and informed of the great news.

Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be

shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were

bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and

more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on

Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday;

but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as

if she had passed through a wasting illness.

Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but

could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or

Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still

about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas

stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff

Hill event; also that the " ragged man's" body had eventually been found

in the river near the ferry-landing; he had been drowned while trying

to escape, perhaps.

About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to

visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting

talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge

Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The

Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him

ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he

thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said:

" Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt.

But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any

more. "

" Why? "

" Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago,

and triple-locked--and I've got the keys. "

Tom turned as white as a sheet.

" What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water! "

The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face.

" Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom? "

" Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave! "

CHAPTER XXXIII

WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of

men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferryboat, well

filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that

bore Judge Thatcher.

When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in

the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground,

dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing

eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer

of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own

experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but

nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now,

which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated

before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day

he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast.

Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The

great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through,

with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock

formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had

wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if

there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been

useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could

not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had

only hacked that place in order to be doing something--in order to pass

the weary time--in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily

one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices

of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The

prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to

catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their

claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at

hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages,

builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had

broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone,

wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop

that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a

clock-tick--a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop

was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the

foundations of Rome were laid when Christ was crucified; when the

Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the

massacre at Lexington was " news. " It is falling now; it will still be

falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of

history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the

thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did

this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for

this flitting human insect's need? and has it another important object

to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and

many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch

the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that

pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the

wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of

the cavern's marvels; even " Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it.

Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked

there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and

hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all

sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as

satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the

hanging.

This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing--the petition to

the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely

signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a

committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail

around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample

his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five

citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself

there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names

to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently

impaired and leaky water-works.

The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have

an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the

Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned

there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he

wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said:

" I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but

whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben

you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you

hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and

told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always

told me we'd never get holt of that swag. "

" Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern

was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you

was to watch there that night? "

" Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I

follered Injun Joe to the widder's. "

" YOU followed him? "

" Yes--but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him,

and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it

hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right. "

Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only

heard of the Welshman's part of it before.

" Well, " said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question,

" whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon

--anyways it's a goner for us, Tom. "

" Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2! "

" What! " Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. " Tom, have you got on

the track of that money again? "

" Huck, it's in the cave! "

Huck's eyes blazed.

" Say it again, Tom. "

" The money's in the cave! "

" Tom--honest injun, now--is it fun, or earnest? "

" Earnest, Huck--just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go

in there with me and help get it out? "

" I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not

get lost. "

" Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the

world. "

" Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's--"

" Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll

agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I

will, by jings. "

" All right--it's a whiz. When do you say? "

" Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough? "

" Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days,

now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom--least I don't think I could. "

" It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go,

Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me

know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the

skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You

needn't ever turn your hand over. "

" Less start right off, Tom. "

" All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little

bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these

new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's

the time I wished I had some when I was in there before. "

A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who

was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles

below " Cave Hollow, " Tom said:

" Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the

cave hollow--no houses, no wood-yards, bushes all alike. But do you see

that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's

one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now. "

They landed.

" Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out

of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it. "

Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly

marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said:

" Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this

country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be