The Adventures of Tom Sawyer Mark Twain (portable ebook reader TXT) 📖

at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill⁠—ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck’s heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas’ grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won’t be hard to find.

Now there was a voice⁠—a very low voice⁠—Injun Joe’s:

“Damn her, maybe she’s got company⁠—there’s lights, late as it is.”

“I can’t see any.”

This was that stranger’s voice⁠—the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck’s heart⁠—this, then, was the “revenge” job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn’t dare⁠—they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger’s remark and Injun Joe’s next⁠—which was⁠—

“Because the bush is in your way. Now⁠—this way⁠—now you see, don’t you?”

“Yes. Well, there is company there, I reckon. Better give it up.”

“Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I’ve told you before, I don’t care for her swag⁠—you may have it. But her husband was rough on me⁠—many times he was rough on me⁠—and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain’t all. It ain’t a millionth part of it! He had me horsewhipped!⁠—horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger!⁠—with all the town looking on! Horsewhipped!⁠—do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I’ll take it out of her.”

“Oh, don’t kill her! Don’t do that!”

“Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill him if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don’t kill her⁠—bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils⁠—you notch her ears like a sow!”

“By God, that’s⁠—”

“Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I’ll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I’ll not cry, if she does. My friend, you’ll help me in this thing⁠—for my sake⁠—that’s why you’re here⁠—I mightn’t be able alone. If you flinch, I’ll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I’ll kill her⁠—and then I reckon nobody’ll ever know much about who done this business.”

“Well, if it’s got to be done, let’s get at it. The quicker the better⁠—I’m all in a shiver.”

“Do it now? And company there? Look here⁠—I’ll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No⁠—we’ll wait till the lights are out⁠—there’s no hurry.”

Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue⁠—a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and⁠—a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound⁠—the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes⁠—turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship⁠—and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman’s. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows.

“What’s the row there? Who’s banging? What do you want?”

“Let me in⁠—quick! I’ll tell everything.”

“Why, who are you?”

“Huckleberry Finn⁠—quick, let me in!”

“Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain’t a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let’s see what’s the trouble.”

“Please don’t ever tell I told you,” were Huck’s first words when he got in. “Please don’t⁠—I’d be killed, sure⁠—but the widow’s been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell⁠—I will tell if you’ll promise you won’t ever say it was me.”

“By George, he has got something to tell, or he wouldn’t act so!” exclaimed the old man; “out with it and nobody here’ll ever tell, lad.”

Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great boulder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry.

Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.

XXX Tom and Becky in the Cave

As the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman’s door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was