CHAPTER XXIX
THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece ofnews--Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before.Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for amoment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw herand they had an exhausting good time playing "hispy" and "gully-keeper"with a crowd of their schoolmates. The day was completed and crowned ina peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appointthe next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and sheconsented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not moremoderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightwaythe young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparationand pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keepawake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's"maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickerswith, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night.
Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy androllicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything wasready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar thepicnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enoughunder the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few younggentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferry-boat waschartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the mainstreet laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to missthe 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 withsome 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'llclimb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll haveice-cream! She has it most every day--dead loads of it. And she'll beawful glad to have us."
"Oh, 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 shewants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there ifshe'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!"
The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It andTom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to saynothing to anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred toTom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. Thethought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still hecould not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should hegive it up, he reasoned--the signal did not come the night before, sowhy should it be any more likely to come tonight? The sure fun of theevening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determinedto yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think ofthe box of money another time that day.
Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woodyhollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forestdistances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings andlaughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gonethrough with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortifiedwith responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good thingsbegan. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat inthe shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted:
"Who's ready for the cave?"
Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway therewas a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up thehillside--an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stoodunbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an icehouse, and walledby Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It wasromantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look outupon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of thesituation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The momenta candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; astruggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knockeddown or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and anew chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession wentfiling down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank oflights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point ofjunction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more thaneight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrowercrevices branched from it on either hand--for McDougal's cave was but avast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out againand led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nightstogether through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and neverfind the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, andstill down, into the earth, and it was just the same--labyrinth underlabyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That wasan impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and itwas not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyerknew as much of the cave as any one.
The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters ofa mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branchavenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surpriseat points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to eludeeach 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 mouthof the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallowdrippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success ofthe day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been takingno note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell hadbeen calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day'sadventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboatwith her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence forthe wasted time but the captain of the craft.
Huck was already upon his watch when the ferryboat's lights wentglinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the youngpeople were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearlytired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did notstop at the wharf--and then he dropped her out of his mind and put hisattention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Teno'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights beganto wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the villagebetook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with thesilence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights wereput out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary longtime, 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 alleydoor closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The nextmoment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something underhis 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 boxand never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and followthem; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. Socommuning with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind themen, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enoughahead not to be invisible.
They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left upa crossstreet. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to thepath that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the oldWelshman's house, halfway up the hill, without hesitating, and stillclimbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry.But they never s
topped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit.They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, andwere at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened hisdistance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted alongawhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; movedon a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save thathe seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of anowl came over the hill--ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, waseverything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a mancleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into histhroat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking asif a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that hethought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. Heknew 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 hardto 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. Adeadly chill went to Huck's heart--this, then, was the "revenge" job! Histhought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had beenkind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murderher. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn'tdare--they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more inthe moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe'snext--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 andmaybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told youbefore, I don't care for her swag--you may have it. But her husband wasrough on me--many times he was rough on me--and mainly he was the justiceof the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain'ta millionth part of it! He had me _horsewhipped_!--horsewhipped infront of the jail, like a nigger!--with all the town looking on!_Horsewhipped_!--do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. ButI'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 washere; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don'tkill her--bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils--you notch herears like a sow!"
"By God, that's--"
"Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie herto the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, ifshe does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing--for _my_ sake--that'swhy 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--andthen 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 thebetter--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 nohurry."
Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue--a thing still more awfulthan any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and steppedgingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing,one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on oneside and then on the other. He took another step back, with the sameelaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and--a twigsnapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was nosound--the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now heturned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes--turnedhimself as carefully as if he were a ship--and then stepped quickly butcautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, andso he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till hereached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the headsof 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 gotin. "Please don't--I'd be killed, sure--but the widow's been good friendsto me sometimes, and I want to tell--I _will_ tell if you'll promise youwon'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 thehill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons intheir hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a greatbowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, andthen 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 asfast as his legs could carry him.