The Classic Children's Literature Collection: 39 Classic Novels

by Various Authors

  It made Tom fly, but it took the stiffening all out of my legs. I could only just gasp along the way you do in a dream when there’s a ghost gaining on you.

  Tom got to the ladder and shinned up it a piece and waited for me; and as soon as I got a foothold on it he shouted to Jim to soar away. But Jim had clean lost his head, and said he had forgot how. So Tom shinned along up and told me to follow; but the lion was arriving, fetching a most ghastly roar with every lope, and my legs shook so I dasn’t try to take one of them out of the rounds for fear the other one would give way under me.

  But Tom was aboard by this time, and he started the balloon up a little, and stopped it again as soon as the end of the ladder was ten or twelve feet above ground. And there was the lion, a-ripping around under me, and roaring and springing up in the air at the ladder, and only missing it about a quarter of an inch, it seemed to me. It was delicious to be out of his reach, perfectly delicious, and made me feel good and thankful all up one side; but I was hanging there helpless and couldn’t climb, and that made me feel perfectly wretched and miserable all down the other. It is most seldom that a person feels so mixed like that; and it is not to be recommended, either.

  Tom asked me what he’d better do, but I didn’t know. He asked me if I could hold on whilst he sailed away to a safe place and left the lion behind. I said I could if he didn’t go no higher than he was now; but if he went higher I would lose my head and fall, sure. So he said, “Take a good grip,” and he started.

  “Don’t go so fast,” I shouted. “It makes my head swim.”

  He had started like a lightning express. He slowed down, and we glided over the sand slower, but still in a kind of sickening way; for it IS uncomfortable to see things sliding and gliding under you like that, and not a sound.

  But pretty soon there was plenty of sound, for the lion was catching up. His noise fetched others. You could see them coming on the lope from every direction, and pretty soon there was a couple of dozen of them under me, jumping up at the ladder and snarling and snapping at each other; and so we went skimming along over the sand, and these fellers doing what they could to help us to not forgit the occasion; and then some other beasts come, without an invite, and they started a regular riot down there.

  We see this plan was a mistake. We couldn’t ever git away from them at this gait, and I couldn’t hold on forever. So Tom took a think, and struck another idea. That was, to kill a lion with the pepper-box revolver, and then sail away while the others stopped to fight over the carcass. So he stopped the balloon still, and done it, and then we sailed off while the fuss was going on, and come down a quarter of a mile off, and they helped me aboard; but by the time we was out of reach again, that gang was on hand once more. And when they see we was really gone and they couldn’t get us, they sat down on their hams and looked up at us so kind of disappointed that it was as much as a person could do not to see THEIR side of the matter.

  CHAPTER VI. IT’S A CARAVAN

  I WAS so weak that the only thing I wanted was a chance to lay down, so I made straight for my locker-bunk, and stretched myself out there. But a body couldn’t get back his strength in no such oven as that, so Tom give the command to soar, and Jim started her aloft.

  We had to go up a mile before we struck comfortable weather where it was breezy and pleasant and just right, and pretty soon I was all straight again. Tom had been setting quiet and thinking; but now he jumps up and says:

  “I bet you a thousand to one I know where we are. We’re in the Great Sahara, as sure as guns!”

  He was so excited he couldn’t hold still; but I wasn’t. I says:

  “Well, then, where’s the Great Sahara? In England or in Scotland?”

  “‘Tain’t in either; it’s in Africa.”

  Jim’s eyes bugged out, and he begun to stare down with no end of interest, because that was where his originals come from; but I didn’t more than half believe it. I couldn’t, you know; it seemed too awful far away for us to have traveled.

  But Tom was full of his discovery, as he called it, and said the lions and the sand meant the Great Desert, sure. He said he could ‘a’ found out, before we sighted land, that we was crowding the land somewheres, if he had thought of one thing; and when we asked him what, he said:

  “These clocks. They’re chronometers. You always read about them in sea voyages. One of them is keeping Grinnage time, and the other is keeping St. Louis time, like my watch. When we left St. Louis it was four in the afternoon by my watch and this clock, and it was ten at night by this Grinnage clock. Well, at this time of the year the sun sets at about seven o’clock. Now I noticed the time yesterday evening when the sun went down, and it was half-past five o’clock by the Grinnage clock, and half past 11 A.M. by my watch and the other clock. You see, the sun rose and set by my watch in St. Louis, and the Grinnage clock was six hours fast; but we’ve come so far east that it comes within less than half an hour of setting by the Grinnage clock now, and I’m away out—more than four hours and a half out. You see, that meant that we was closing up on the longitude of Ireland, and would strike it before long if we was p’inted right—which we wasn’t. No, sir, we’ve been a-wandering—wandering ‘way down south of east, and it’s my opinion we are in Africa. Look at this map. You see how the shoulder of Africa sticks out to the west. Think how fast we’ve traveled; if we had gone straight east we would be long past England by this time. You watch for noon, all of you, and we’ll stand up, and when we can’t cast a shadow we’ll find that this Grinnage clock is coming mighty close to marking twelve. Yes, sir, I think we’re in Africa; and it’s just bully.”

  Jim was gazing down with the glass. He shook his head and says:

  “Mars Tom, I reckon dey’s a mistake som’er’s, hain’t seen no niggers yit.”

  “That’s nothing; they don’t live in the desert. What is that, ‘way off yonder? Gimme a glass.”

  He took a long look, and said it was like a black string stretched across the sand, but he couldn’t guess what it was.

  “Well,” I says, “I reckon maybe you’ve got a chance now to find out whereabouts this balloon is, because as like as not that is one of these lines here, that’s on the map, that you call meridians of longitude, and we can drop down and look at its number, and—”

  “Oh, shucks, Huck Finn, I never see such a lunkhead as you. Did you s’pose there’s meridians of longitude on the EARTH?”

  “Tom Sawyer, they’re set down on the map, and you know it perfectly well, and here they are, and you can see for yourself.”

  “Of course they’re on the map, but that’s nothing; there ain’t any on the GROUND.”

  “Tom, do you know that to be so?”

  “Certainly I do.”

  “Well, then, that map’s a liar again. I never see such a liar as that map.”

  He fired up at that, and I was ready for him, and Jim was warming his opinion, too, and next minute we’d ‘a’ broke loose on another argument, if Tom hadn’t dropped the glass and begun to clap his hands like a maniac and sing out:

  “Camels!—Camels!”

  So I grabbed a glass and Jim, too, and took a look, but I was disappointed, and says:

  “Camels your granny; they’re spiders.”

  “Spiders in a desert, you shad? Spiders walking in a procession? You don’t ever reflect, Huck Finn, and I reckon you really haven’t got anything to reflect WITH. Don’t you know we’re as much as a mile up in the air, and that that string of crawlers is two or three miles away? Spiders, good land! Spiders as big as a cow? Perhaps you’d like to go down and milk one of ‘em. But they’re camels, just the same. It’s a caravan, that’s what it is, and it’s a mile long.”

  “Well, then, let’s go down and look at it. I don’t believe in it, and ain’t going to till I see it and know it.”

  “All right,” he says, and give the command:

 
“Lower away.”

  As we come slanting down into the hot weather, we could see that it was camels, sure enough, plodding along, an everlasting string of them, with bales strapped to them, and several hundred men in long white robes, and a thing like a shawl bound over their heads and hanging down with tassels and fringes; and some of the men had long guns and some hadn’t, and some was riding and some was walking. And the weather—well, it was just roasting. And how slow they did creep along! We swooped down now, all of a sudden, and stopped about a hundred yards over their heads.

  The men all set up a yell, and some of them fell flat on their stomachs, some begun to fire their guns at us, and the rest broke and scampered every which way, and so did the camels.

  We see that we was making trouble, so we went up again about a mile, to the cool weather, and watched them from there. It took them an hour to get together and form the procession again; then they started along, but we could see by the glasses that they wasn’t paying much attention to anything but us. We poked along, looking down at them with the glasses, and by and by we see a big sand mound, and something like people the other side of it, and there was something like a man laying on top of the mound that raised his head up every now and then, and seemed to be watching the caravan or us, we didn’t know which. As the caravan got nearer, he sneaked down on the other side and rushed to the other men and horses—for that is what they was—and we see them mount in a hurry; and next, here they come, like a house afire, some with lances and some with long guns, and all of them yelling the best they could.

  They come a-tearing down on to the caravan, and the next minute both sides crashed together and was all mixed up, and there was such another popping of guns as you never heard, and the air got so full of smoke you could only catch glimpses of them struggling together. There must ‘a’ been six hundred men in that battle, and it was terrible to see. Then they broke up into gangs and groups, fighting tooth and nail, and scurrying and scampering around, and laying into each other like everything; and whenever the smoke cleared a little you could see dead and wounded people and camels scattered far and wide and all about, and camels racing off in every direction.

  At last the robbers see they couldn’t win, so their chief sounded a signal, and all that was left of them broke away and went scampering across the plain. The last man to go snatched up a child and carried it off in front of him on his horse, and a woman run screaming and begging after him, and followed him away off across the plain till she was separated a long ways from her people; but it warn’t no use, and she had to give it up, and we see her sink down on the sand and cover her face with her hands. Then Tom took the hellum, and started for that yahoo, and we come a-whizzing down and made a swoop, and knocked him out of the saddle, child and all; and he was jarred considerable, but the child wasn’t hurt, but laid there working its hands and legs in the air like a tumble-bug that’s on its back and can’t turn over. The man went staggering off to overtake his horse, and didn’t know what had hit him, for we was three or four hundred yards up in the air by this time.

  We judged the woman would go and get the child now; but she didn’t. We could see her, through the glass, still setting there, with her head bowed down on her knees; so of course she hadn’t seen the performance, and thought her child was clean gone with the man. She was nearly a half a mile from her people, so we thought we might go down to the child, which was about a quarter of a mile beyond her, and snake it to her before the caravan people could git to us to do us any harm; and besides, we reckoned they had enough business on their hands for one while, anyway, with the wounded. We thought we’d chance it, and we did. We swooped down and stopped, and Jim shinned down the ladder and fetched up the kid, which was a nice fat little thing, and in a noble good humor, too, considering it was just out of a battle and been tumbled off of a horse; and then we started for the mother, and stopped back of her and tolerable near by, and Jim slipped down and crept up easy, and when he was close back of her the child goo-goo’d, the way a child does, and she heard it, and whirled and fetched a shriek of joy, and made a jump for the kid and snatched it and hugged it, and dropped it and hugged Jim, and then snatched off a gold chain and hung it around Jim’s neck, and hugged him again, and jerked up the child again, a-sobbing and glorifying all the time; and Jim he shoved for the ladder and up it, and in a minute we was back up in the sky and the woman was staring up, with the back of her head between her shoulders and the child with its arms locked around her neck. And there she stood, as long as we was in sight a-sailing away in the sky.

  CHAPTER VII. TOM RESPECTS THE FLEA

  “NOON!” says Tom, and so it was. His shadder was just a blot around his feet. We looked, and the Grinnage clock was so close to twelve the difference didn’t amount to nothing. So Tom said London was right north of us or right south of us, one or t’other, and he reckoned by the weather and the sand and the camels it was north; and a good many miles north, too; as many as from New York to the city of Mexico, he guessed.

  Jim said he reckoned a balloon was a good deal the fastest thing in the world, unless it might be some kinds of birds—a wild pigeon, maybe, or a railroad.

  But Tom said he had read about railroads in England going nearly a hundred miles an hour for a little ways, and there never was a bird in the world that could do that—except one, and that was a flea.

  “A flea? Why, Mars Tom, in de fust place he ain’t a bird, strickly speakin’—”

  “He ain’t a bird, eh? Well, then, what is he?”

  “I don’t rightly know, Mars Tom, but I speck he’s only jist a’ animal. No, I reckon dat won’t do, nuther, he ain’t big enough for a’ animal. He mus’ be a bug. Yassir, dat’s what he is, he’s a bug.”

  “I bet he ain’t, but let it go. What’s your second place?”

  “Well, in de second place, birds is creturs dat goes a long ways, but a flea don’t.”

  “He don’t, don’t he? Come, now, what IS a long distance, if you know?”

  “Why, it’s miles, and lots of ‘em—anybody knows dat.”

  “Can’t a man walk miles?”

  “Yassir, he kin.”

  “As many as a railroad?”

  “Yassir, if you give him time.”

  “Can’t a flea?”

  “Well—I s’pose so—ef you gives him heaps of time.”

  “Now you begin to see, don’t you, that DISTANCE ain’t the thing to judge by, at all; it’s the time it takes to go the distance IN that COUNTS, ain’t it?”

  “Well, hit do look sorter so, but I wouldn’t ‘a’ b’lieved it, Mars Tom.”

  “It’s a matter of PROPORTION, that’s what it is; and when you come to gauge a thing’s speed by its size, where’s your bird and your man and your railroad, alongside of a flea? The fastest man can’t run more than about ten miles in an hour—not much over ten thousand times his own length. But all the books says any common ordinary third-class flea can jump a hundred and fifty times his own length; yes, and he can make five jumps a second too—seven hundred and fifty times his own length, in one little second—for he don’t fool away any time stopping and starting—he does them both at the same time; you’ll see, if you try to put your finger on him. Now that’s a common, ordinary, third-class flea’s gait; but you take an Eyetalian FIRST-class, that’s been the pet of the nobility all his life, and hasn’t ever knowed what want or sickness or exposure was, and he can jump more than three hundred times his own length, and keep it up all day, five such jumps every second, which is fifteen hundred times his own length. Well, suppose a man could go fifteen hundred times his own length in a second—say, a mile and a half. It’s ninety miles a minute; it’s considerable more than five thousand miles an hour. Where’s your man NOW?—yes, and your bird, and your railroad, and your balloon? Laws, they don’t amount to shucks ‘longside of a flea. A flea is just a comet b’iled down small.”

  Jim was a good d
eal astonished, and so was I. Jim said:

  “Is dem figgers jist edjackly true, en no jokin’ en no lies, Mars Tom?”

  “Yes, they are; they’re perfectly true.”

  “Well, den, honey, a body’s got to respec’ a flea. I ain’t had no respec’ for um befo’, sca’sely, but dey ain’t no gittin’ roun’ it, dey do deserve it, dat’s certain.”

  “Well, I bet they do. They’ve got ever so much more sense, and brains, and brightness, in proportion to their size, than any other cretur in the world. A person can learn them ‘most anything; and they learn it quicker than any other cretur, too. They’ve been learnt to haul little carriages in harness, and go this way and that way and t’other way according to their orders; yes, and to march and drill like soldiers, doing it as exact, according to orders, as soldiers does it. They’ve been learnt to do all sorts of hard and troublesome things. S’pose you could cultivate a flea up to the size of a man, and keep his natural smartness a-growing and a-growing right along up, bigger and bigger, and keener and keener, in the same proportion—where’d the human race be, do you reckon? That flea would be President of the United States, and you couldn’t any more prevent it than you can prevent lightning.”

  “My lan’, Mars Tom, I never knowed dey was so much TO de beas’. No, sir, I never had no idea of it, and dat’s de fac’.”

  “There’s more to him, by a long sight, than there is to any other cretur, man or beast, in proportion to size. He’s the interestingest of them all. People have so much to say about an ant’s strength, and an elephant’s, and a locomotive’s. Shucks, they don’t begin with a flea. He can lift two or three hundred times his own weight. And none of them can come anywhere near it. And, moreover, he has got notions of his own, and is very particular, and you can’t fool him; his instinct, or his judgment, or whatever it is, is perfectly sound and clear, and don’t ever make a mistake. People think all humans are alike to a flea. It ain’t so. There’s folks that he won’t go near, hungry or not hungry, and I’m one of them. I’ve never had one of them on me in my life.”