Huckleberry Finn by Dave Mckay, Mark Twain (dark books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Dave Mckay, Mark Twain
Book online «Huckleberry Finn by Dave Mckay, Mark Twain (dark books to read TXT) đ». Author Dave Mckay, Mark Twain
âAnd look at that there ladder made out of clothes, Sister Hotchkiss,â says old Mrs. Damrell. âWhat in the name of all thatâs good could he ever want of -- â
âThe very words I was a-saying no longer ago than this minute to Sister Utterback; sheâll tell you so herself. Look at that there cloth ladder, says she; and says I, Yes, look at it, says I -- what could he a-wanted of it, says I. Sister Hotchkiss, says she -- â
âBut how in the world did they ever get that stone in there, anyway? And who made that there hole? and who -- â
âMy very words, Brother Penrod! I was a-sayinâ -- pass that there cup of sugar, wonât you? -- I was a-saying to Sister Dunlap, just this minute, how did they get that stone in there, says I. Without help, mind you -- without help! Thereâs where it is. Donât tell me, says I; there was help, and there was a lot of help, too, says I; thereâs been at least ten or twelve a-helping that slave, and Iâd skin every last slave on this place but Iâd find out who done it, says I; and on top of that -- â
âTen or twelve says you? -- forty couldnât a done everything thatâs been done. Look at them table-knife saws and things, how carefully theyâve been made; look at that bed leg sawed off with âem, a weekâs work for six men; look at that man made out of dry grass on the bed; and look at -- â
âYou may well say it, Brother Hightower! Itâs just as I was a- saying to Brother Phelps, his own self. Says he, what do you think of it, Sister Hotchkiss, says he? Think of what, Brother Phelps? says I. Think of that bed leg sawed off that a way, says he? Think of it, says I? I can tell you it never sawed itself off, says I -- someone sawed it, says I; thatâs my thinking, take it or leave it, it may not be, says I, but such as it is, itâs my think- ing, says I, and if anyone can start a better one, let him do it, says I, thatâs all. I says to Sister Dunlap, -- â
âWhy, dog my cats, they must a been a house full of blacks in there every night for four weeks to a done all that work, Sister Phelps. Look at that shirt -- every last inch of it covered over with secret African writing done with blood! Must a been a raft of âem at it right along, all the time, almost. Why, Iâd give two dollars to have it read to me; and as for the blacks that wrote it, I think Iâd take and whip âem until -- â
âPeople to help him, Brother Marples? Well, I say youâd think so if youâd a been in this house for a while back. Why, theyâve robbed everything they could put their hands on -- and we a-watching all the time, mind you. They robbed that shirt right off of the line! and as for that sheet they made the rope ladder out of, there ainât no telling how many times they didnât rob that; and flour, and candles, and candle-sticks, and spoons, and the old warming-pan, and most a thousand things that I can think of now, and my new dress; and me and Silas and my Sid and Tom on the watch day and night, as I was a-telling you, and not a one of us could catch a look or a sound of them; and here at the last minute, look and see, they come right in under our noses and tricked us, and not only tricked us but tricked the Indian country robbers too, and got away with that slave safe and sound, and that with sixteen men and twenty-two dogs right on their very heels at that very time! I tell you, it just bangs anything I ever heard of. Why, spirits couldnât a done it better and been no smarter. And I think they must a been spirits -- because, you know our dogs, and there ainât no better; well, them dogs never even got the smell of âem once! You tell me how that could be, if you can -- any of you!â
âWell, it does go -- â
âLaws alive, I never -- â
âSo help me, I wouldnât a been -- â
âHouse-robbers as well as -- â
âFor the love of Pete, Iâd a been afraid to live in such a -- â
âAfraid to live! -- why, I was that scared I could hardly go to bed, or get up, or lie down, or sit down, Sister Ridgeway. Why, theyâd rob the very -- why, just think what kind of a worry I was in by the time midnight come last night. I hope to die if I werenât afraid theyâd rob some of the family! I was just to that point I didnât have no ability to think no more. It looks foolish enough now, in the day; but I says to myself, thereâs my two poor boys asleep, way up in that room by themselves, and I tell the truth I was that worried that I went up there and locked âem in! I did. And anyone would. Because, you know, when you get scared that way, and it keeps running on, and getting worse and worse all the time, and your mind gets confused, you get to doing all kinds of wild things, and by and by you think to yourself, what if I was a boy, and was away up there, and the door ainât locked, and you -- â
She stopped, looking kind of confused, and then she turned her head around slow, and when her eye landed on me -- I got up and took a walk.
Says I to myself, I can tell it better how we come to not be in that room this morning if I go out to one side and study over it a little. So I done it. But I couldnât go too far, or sheâd a sent for me. And when it was late in the day the people all went, and then I come in and told her the noise and shooting waked up me and âSid,â and the door was locked, and we wanted to see the fun, so we went down the lightning-rod, and both of us got hurt a little, and we didnât never want to try that no more. And then I went on and told her all what I told Uncle Silas before; and then she said sheâd forgive us, and maybe it was right enough any- way, and about what boys do, for all boys was a rough lot as far as she could see; and so, as long as no hurt had come of it, she judged she better put in her time being thankful we was alive and well and she had us still, instead of worrying over what was past and done. So then she kissed me, and rubbed my head in a nice way, and dropped into a kind of a brown study; and pretty soon jumps up, and says: âWhy, lord have mercy, itâs almost night, and Sid not come yet! What has become of that boy?â
I see the opening; so I jumps up and says: âIâll run right up to town and get him.â
âNo you wonât,â she says. âYouâll stay right where you are; oneâs enough to be lost at a time. If he ainât here to dinner, your uncle will go.â
Well, he werenât there to dinner; so after dinner uncle went.
He come back about ten a little worried; hadnât run across word of Tom. Aunt Sally was a lot worried; but Uncle Silas he said there werenât no reason to be -- boys will be boys, he said, and youâll see this one turn up in the morning all safe and right. So she had to go with that. But she said sheâd sit up for him a while anyway, and keep a light burning so he could see it.
And then when I went up to bed she come up with me and brought her candle, and mothered me so good I felt mean, and like I couldnât look her in the face; and she sat down on the bed and talked with me a long time, and said what a good boy Sid was, and didnât seem to want to ever stop talking about him; and kept asking me every now and then if I thought he could a got lost, or hurt, or maybe drowned, and might be lying at this minute somewhere in pain or dead, and she not being by him to help him, and so the tears would start falling quietly, and I would tell her that Sid was all right, and would be home in the morning, for sure; and she would squeeze my hand, or maybe kiss me, and tell me to say it again, and keep on saying it, because it done her good, and she was in so much trouble. And when she was going away she looked down in my eyes so serious and kind, and says: âThe door ainât going to be locked, Tom, and thereâs the window and the rod; but youâll be good, wonât you? And you wonât go? For me?â
Lord knows I wanted to go bad enough to see about Tom, and was planning to go; but after that I wouldnât a went, not for countries.
But she was on my mind and Tom was on my mind, so I didnât sleep well. And two times I went down the rod away in the night, and around to the front, and seen her sitting there by her candle in the window with her eyes toward the road and the tears in them; and I wished I could do something for her, but I couldnât, only to promise myself that I wouldnât never do nothing to make her sad any more. And the third time I waked up with the sun, and went down, and she was there yet, and her candle was almost out, and her old grey head was resting on her hand, and she was asleep.
Chapter 42
The old man was up to town again before breakfast, but couldnât get no word of Tom; and both of them sat at the table thinking, and not saying nothing, and looking sad, and their coffee getting cold, and not eating anything. And by and by the old man says: âDid I give you the letter?â
âWhat letter?â
âThe one I got yesterday when I got the mail.â
âNo, you didnât give me no letter.â
âSorry.â
So he fished in his pockets, and then went off somewhere where he had put it down, and brought it, and give it to her. She says: âWhy, itâs from St. Petersburg -- itâs from my sister.â I believed another walk would do me good; but I couldnât move. Then, before she could break it open she dropped it and run -- for she seen something. And so did I. It was Tom Sawyer on a stretcher; and that old doctor; and Jim, in her dress, with his hands tied behind him; and a lot of people. I put the letter behind the first thing that come to hand, and hurried out. She threw herself at Tom, crying, and says:
âOh, heâs dead, heâs dead, I know heâs dead!â
And Tom he turned his head a little, and said something or other, which showed he werenât in his right mind; then she threw up her hands, and says: âHeâs alive, thank God! And thatâs enough!â and she took a kiss of him,
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