Chapter 29
Huck Saves the Widow
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THE FIRST THING Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of
news- Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night
before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance
for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He
saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and
"gully-keeper" with a crowd of their schoolmates. The day was
completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased
her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and
long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was
boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent
out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were
thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's
excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and
he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "meow," and of having his treasure
to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was
disappointed. No signal came that night.
Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and
rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything
was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar
picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe
enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few
young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferry
boat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up
the main street laden with provision baskets. Sid was sick and had
to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last
thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was-
"You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all
night with some of the girls that live near the ferry landing, child."
"Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma."
"Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble."
Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky:
"Say- I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's
we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas's.
She'll have ice cream! She has it 'most every day- dead loads of it.
And she'll be awful glad to have us."
"O, that will be fun!"
Then Becky reflected a moment and said:
"But what will mamma say?"
"How'll she ever know?"
The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly:
"I reckon it's wrong- but-"
"But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she
wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if
she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!"
The widow Douglas's splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and
Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to
say nothing to anybody about the night's programme. Presently it
occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give
the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his
anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow
Douglas's. And why should he give it up, he reasoned- the signal did
not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come
to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain
treasure; and boy like, he determined to yield to the stronger
inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another
time that day.
Three miles below town the ferry boat stopped at the mouth of a
woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest
distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and
laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone
through with, and by and by the rovers straggled back to camp
fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of
the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season
of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By and by somebody
shouted-
"Who's ready for the cave?"
Everybody was. Bundles of candles were produced, and straightway
there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was
up the hillside- an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive
oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an
ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy
with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the
deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun.
But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the
romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a
general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defense
followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and
then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all
things have an end. By and by the procession went filing down the
steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights
dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of
junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight
or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower
crevices branched from it on either hand- for McDougal's cave was
but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and
out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days
and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and
chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down,
and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same-
labyrinth underneath labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man
"knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men
knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much
beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as
any one.
The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of
a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch
avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by
surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able
to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond
the "known" ground.
By and by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth
of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow
drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success
of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been
taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The
clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of
close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory.
When the ferry boat with her wild freight pushed into the stream,
nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the
craft.
Huck was already upon his watch when the ferry boat's lights went
glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young
people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are
nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did
not stop at the wharf- and then he dropped her out of his mind and put
his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and
dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered
lights began to wink out, all straggling foot passengers
disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the
small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock
came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now.
Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His
faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use?
Why not give it up and turn in?
A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The
alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick
store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to
have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were
going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd-
the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he
would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the
darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself,
Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with
bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be
invisible.
They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left
up a cross street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came
to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by
the old Welchman's house, half way up the hill without hesitating, and
still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old
quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the
summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach
bushes, and were 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 a while; 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 from 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's 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."
"O, 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's!"
"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 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 Welchman'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 dont- 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 tip-toe, 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.
CHAPTER_30
Chapter 30
Tom and Becky in the Cave
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THE EARLIEST SUSPICION of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came
groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welchman's door.
The inmates were asleep but it was a sleep that was set on a
hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A
call came from a window-
"Who's there!"
Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone:
"Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!"
"It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad!- and
welcome!"
These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the
pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing
word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly
locked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and
his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves.
"Now my boy I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be
ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too-
make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up
and stop here last night."
"I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the
pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now
becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before
daylight becuz I didn't want to run acrost them devils, even if they
was dead."
"Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it-
but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No,
they ain't dead, lad- we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew
right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept
along on tip-toe till we got within fifteen feet of them- dark as a
cellar that sumach path was- and just then I found I was going to
sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back,
but no use- 'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead
with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels
a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire, boys!' and
blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys.
But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them,
down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a
shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't
do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit
chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse
together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is
light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys
will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of
those rascals- 'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what
they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?"
"O, yes, I saw them down town and follered them."
"Splendid! Describe them- describe them, my boy!"
"One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or
twice, and t'other's a mean looking ragged-"
"That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the
woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with
you, boys, and tell the sheriff- get your breakfast to-morrow
morning!"
The Welchman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the
room Huck sprang up and exclaimed:
"O, please don't tell anybody it was me that blowed on them! O,
please!"
"All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit
of what you did."
"O, no, no! Please don't tell!"
When the young men were gone, the old Welchman said-
"They won't tell- and I won't. But why don't you want it known?"
Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too
much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he
knew anything against him for the whole world- he would be killed
for knowing it, sure.
The old man promised secrecy once more, and said:
"How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking
suspicious?"
Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said:
"Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot,- least everybody says
so, and I don't see nothing agin it- and sometimes I can't sleep much,
on accounts of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a
new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep,
and so I come along up street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over,
and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance
Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just
then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with
something under their arm and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was
a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right
before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one
was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on
his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged looking devil."
"Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?"
This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said:
"Well, I don't know- but somehow it seems as if I did."
"Then they went on, and you-"
"Follered 'em- yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up- they
sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the
dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard
swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two-"
"What! The deaf and dumb man said all that!"
Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to
keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard
might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble
in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of
his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder
after blunder. Presently the Welchman said:
"My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your
head for all the world. No- I'd protect you- I'd protect you. This
Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without
intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about
that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me- tell me what
it is, and trust me- I won't betray you."
Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent
over and whispered in his ear-
"'Tain't a Spaniard- it's Injun Joe!"
The Welchman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said:
"It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and
slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment,
because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun!
That's a different matter altogether."
During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old
man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before
going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its
vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky
bundle of-
"Of WHAT?" If the words had been lightning they could not have
leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips.
His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended- waiting for
the answer. The Welchman started- stared in return- three seconds-
five seconds- ten- then replied-
"Of burglar's tools. Why what's the matter with you?"
Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful.
The Welchman eyed him gravely, curiously- and presently said-
"Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal.
But what did give you that turn? What were you expecting we'd found?"
Huck was in a close place- the inquiring eye was upon him- he would
have given anything for material for a plausible answer- nothing
suggested itself- the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper- a
senseless reply offered- there was no time to weigh it, so at a
venture he uttered it- feebly:
"Sunday-school books, maybe."
Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but- the old man laughed
loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to
foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a man's
pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bills like everything. Then
he added:
"Poor old chap, you're white and jaded- you ain't well a bit- no
wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come
out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope."
Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed
such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the
parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had
heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not
the treasure, however- he had not known that it wasn't- and so the
suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his
self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode
had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was
not the bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly
comfortable. In fact everything seemed to be drifting just in the
right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men
would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize
the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption.
Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door.
Huck jumped for a hiding place, for he had no mind to be connected
even remotely with the late event. The Welchman admitted several
ladies and gentlemen, among them the widow Douglas, and noticed that
groups of citizens were climbing up the hill- to stare at the stile.
So the news had spread.
The Welchman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The
widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken.
"Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're
more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't
allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him."
Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost
belittled the main matter- but the Welchman allowed it to eat into the
vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole
town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been
learned, the widow said:
"I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all
that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?"
"We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to
come again- they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was
the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro
men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've
just come back."
More visitors came, and the story had to be told and re-told for a
couple of hours more.
There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but
everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well
canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been
yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife
dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with
the crowd and said:
"Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be
tired to death."
"Your Becky?"
"Yes,"- with a startled look,- "didn't she stay with you last
night?"
"Why, no."
Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt
Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said:
"Good morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got
a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom staid at your house
last night- one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've
got to settle with him."
Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever.
"He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look
uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face.
"Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?"
"No'm."
"When did you see him last?"
Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had
stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding
uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were
anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not
noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferry boat on the
homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was
missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were
still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away; Aunt Polly fell to
crying and wringing her hands.
The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to
street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the
whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant
insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled,
skiffs were manned, the ferry boat ordered out, and before the
horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down
high-road and river toward the cave.
All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women
visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They
cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the
tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at
last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles- and send
food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly also. Judge
Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but
they conveyed no real cheer.
The old Welchman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle
grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in
the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever.
The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and
took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him,
because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the
Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected.
The Welchman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said-
"You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it
off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes
from His hands."
Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into
the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching.
All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the
cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that
every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that
wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to
be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and
pistol shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the
somber aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by
tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky
wall with candle smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of
ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She
said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that
no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one
parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some
said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would
glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of
men go trooping down the echoing aisle- and then a sickening
disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was
only a searcher's light.
Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along,
and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for
anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor
of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely
fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid
interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally
asked- dimly dreading the worst- if anything had been discovered at
the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill?
"Yes." said the widow.
Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed:
"What! What was it?"
"Liquor!- and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child- what a
turn you did give me!"
"Only tell me just one thing- only just one- please! Was it Tom
Sawyer that found it?"
The widow burst into tears.
"Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must not talk.
You are very, very sick!"
Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a
great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone
forever- gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious
that she should cry.
These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under
the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself:
"There- he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but
somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there aint many left, now,
that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on
searching."
CHAPTER_31
Chapter 31
Found and Lost Again
-
NOW TO RETURN to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped
along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the
familiar wonders of the cave- wonders dubbed with rather
over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral,"
"Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek
frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until
the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down
a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled
web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses and mottoes with which
the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle smoke). Still drifting
along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a
part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their
own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came
to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge
and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging
ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and
imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order
to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained
a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow
walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky
responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance,
and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down
into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched
off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place
they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a
multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of
a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and
presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it.
This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was
encrusted with a frost work of glittering crystals; it was in the
midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars
which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and
stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of
centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves
together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and
they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously
at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of
conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first
corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's
light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The
bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged
into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the
perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which
stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows.
He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be
best to sit down and rest a while, first. Now, for the first time, the
deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the
children. Becky said-
"Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any
of the others."
"Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them- and I don't know
how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't
hear them here."
Becky grew apprehensive.
"I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom. We better start back."
"Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better."
"Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me."
"I reckon I could find it- but then the bats. If they put both our
candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as
not to go through there."
"Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and
the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities.
They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a
long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything
familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time
Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging
sign, and he would say cheerily-
"O, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right
away!"
But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently
began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in the
desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it
was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart,
that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said,
"All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and
tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she
said:
"O, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get
worse and worse off all the time."
Tom stopped.
"Listen!" said he.
Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were
conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the
empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that
resembled a ripple of mocking laughter.
"O, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky.
"It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know;"
and he shouted again.
The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it
so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and
listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at
once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a
certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to
Becky- he could not find his way back!
"O, Tom, you didn't make any marks!"
"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! O, 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 no 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.
"O, 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 on 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 said 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, 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
heartsinking 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
further 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.
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