CHAPTER XI
CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrifiedwith the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph;the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house tohouse, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course theschoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would havethought strangely of him if he had not.
A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had beenrecognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter--so the story ran.And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washinghimself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, andthat Potter had at once sneaked off--suspicious circumstances,especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was alsosaid that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the publicare not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at averdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed downall the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" thathe would be captured before night.
All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreakvanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not athousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful,unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place,he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismalspectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebodypinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then bothlooked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anythingin their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon thegrisly spectacle before them.
"Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson tograve robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" Thiswas the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; Hishand is here."
Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolidface of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle,and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!"
"Who? Who?" from twenty voices.
"Muff Potter!"
"Hallo, he's stopped!--Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!"
People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn'ttrying to get away--he only looked doubtful and perplexed.
"Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take aquiet look at his work, I reckon--didn't expect any company."
The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through,ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face washaggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stoodbefore the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his facein his hands and burst into tears.
"I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I neverdone it."
"Who's accused you?" shouted a voice.
This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and lookedaround him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe,and exclaimed:
"Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never--"
"Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff.
Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him tothe ground. Then he said:
"Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get--" He shuddered;then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell'em, Joe, tell 'em--it ain't any use any more."
Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard thestony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting everymoment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head,and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he hadfinished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse tobreak their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded andvanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan andit would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that.
"Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebodysaid.
"I couldn't help it--I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted torun away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fellto sobbing again.
Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutesafterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that thelightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joehad sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the mostbalefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they couldnot take their fascinated eyes from his face.
They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity shouldoffer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master.
Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in awagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowdthat the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happycircumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they weredisappointed, for more than one villager remarked:
"It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it."
Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for asmuch as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said:
"Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep meawake half the time."
Tom blanched and dropped his eyes.
"It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on yourmind, Tom?"
"Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that hespilled his coffee.
"And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It'sblood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. Andyou said, 'Don't torment me so--I'll tell!' Tell WHAT? What is ityou'll tell?"
Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what mighthave happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly'sface and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said:
"Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every nightmyself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it."
Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemedsatisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could,and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up hisjaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, andfrequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbowlistening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandageback to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually andthe toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed tomake anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself.
It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holdinginquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to hismind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries,though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises;he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness--and that wasstrange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed amarked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when hecould. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went outof vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience.
Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched hisopportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled suchsmall comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. Thejail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edgeof the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it wasseldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom'sconscience.
The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe andride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was hischaracter that nobody could be found who was willing to take the leadin the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both ofhis inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing thegrave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest notto try the case in the courts at present.