Adventures of Tom Sawyer (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Mark J. Twain

  “You followed him?”

  “Yes—but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe’s left friends behind him, and I don’t want ‘em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn’t ben for me he’d be down in Texas now, all right.”

  Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshmen’s part of it before.

  “Well,” said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, “whoever nipped the whisky in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon—anyways it’s a goner for us, Tom.”

  “Huck, that money wasn’t ever in No. 2!”

  “What!” Huck searched his comrade’s face keenly. “Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?”

  “Huck, it’s in the cave!”

  Huck’s eyes blazed.

  “Say it again, Tom.”

  “The money’s in the cave!”

  “Tom—honest injun, now—is it fun, or earnest?”

  “Earnest, Huck—just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?”

  “I bet I will! I will if it’s where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost.”

  “Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world.”

  “Good as wheat! What makes you think the money‘s—”

  “Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don’t find it I’ll agree to give you my drum and everything I’ve got in the world. I will, by jings.”

  “All right—it’s a whiz.bm When do you say?”

  “Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?”

  “Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can’t walk more’n a mile, Tom—least I don’t think I could.”

  “It’s about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there’s a mighty short cut that they don’t anybody but me know about. Huck, I’ll take you right to it in a skiff I’ll float the skiff down there, and I’ll pull it back again all by myself. You needn’t ever turn your hand over.”

  “Less start right off, Tom.”

  “All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite strings, and some of these newfangled things they call lucifer matches.1 I tell you, many’s the time I wished I had some when I was in there before.”

  A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below “Cave Hollow,” Tom said:

  “Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow—no houses, no woodyards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there’s been a landslide? Well, that’s one of my marks. We’ll get ashore, now.”

  They landed.

  “Now, Huck, where we’re a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing pole. See if you can find it.”

  Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumac bushes and said:

  “Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it’s the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I’ve been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I’d got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We’ve got it now, and we’ll keep it quiet, only we’ll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in—because of course there’s got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn’t be any style about it. Tom Sawyer’s Gang—it sounds splendid, don’t it, Huck?”

  “Well, it just does, Tom. And who’ll we rob?”

  “Oh, most anybody. Waylay people—that’s mostly the way.”

  “And kill them?”

  “No, not always. Hide them in the cave till they raise a ransom.”

  “What’s a ransom?”

  “Money. You make them raise all they can, off’n their friends; and after you’ve kept them a year, if it ain’t raised then you kill them. That’s the general way. Only you don’t kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don’t kill them. They’re always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain’t anybody as polite as robbers—you’ll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they’ve been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn’t get them to leave. If you drove them out they’d turn right around and come back. It’s so in all the books.”

  “Why, it’s real bully, Tom. I b‘lieve it’s better’n to be a pirate.”

  “Yes, it’s better in some ways, because it’s close to home and circuses and all that.”

  By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candlewick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire.

  The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom’s other corridor until they reached the “jumping-off place.” The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered:

  “Now I’ll show you something, Huck.”

  He held his candle aloft and said:

  “Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There—on the big rock over yonder—done with candle smoke.”

  “Tom, it’s a cross!”

  “Now where’s your Number Two? ‘Under the cross,’ hey? Right yonder’s where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!”

  Huck stared at the mystic sign a while, and then said with a shaky voice:

  “Tom, less git out of here!”

  “What! and leave the treasure?”

  “Yes—leave it. Injun Joe’s ghost is round about there, certain.”

  “No it ain‘t, Huck, no it ain’t. It would ha’nt the place where he died—away out at the mouth of the cave—live mile from here.”

  “No, Tom, it wouldn’t. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you.”

  Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him—

  “Looky-here, Huck, what fools we’re making of ourselves! Injun Joe’s ghost ain’t a-going to come around where there’s a cross!”

  The point was well taken. It had its effect.

  “Tom, I didn’t think of that. But that’s so. It’s luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we’ll climb down there and have a hunt for that box.”

  Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money box. The lads searched and re-searched this place, but in vain. Tom said:

  “He said under the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can’t be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground.”

  They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By and by Tom said:

  “Looky-here, Huck, there’s footprints and some candle grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what’s that for? I bet you the money is under the rock. I’m going to dig in the clay.”

  “That ain’t no bad notion, Tom!” said Huck with animation.

  Tom’s “real Barlow” was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood.

  “Hey, Huck!-you hear that?”


  Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by and by, and exclaimed:

  “My goodness, Huck, looky here!”

  It was the treasure box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with water-drip.

  “Got it at last!” said Huck, plowing among the tarnished coins with his hand. “My, but we’re rich, Tom!”

  “Huck, I always reckoned we’d get it. It’s just too good to believe, but we have got it, sure! Say—let’s not fool around here. Let’s snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box.”

  It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently.

  “I thought so,” he said; “they carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha‘nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along.”

  The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock.

  “Now less fetch the guns and things,” said Huck.

  “No, Huck—leave them there. They’re just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We’ll keep them there all the time, and we’ll hold our orgies there, too. It’s an awful snug place for orgies.”

  “What’s orgies?”

  “I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we’ve got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we’ve been in here a long time. It’s getting late, I reckon. I’m hungry, too. We’ll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff.”

  They presently emerged into the clump of sumac bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark.

  “Now, Huck,” said Tom, “we’ll hide the money in the loft of the widow’s woodshed, and I’ll come up in the morning and we’ll count it and divide, and then we’ll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor’s little wagon; I won’t be gone a minute.”

  He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman’s house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said:

  “Hello, who’s that?”

  “Huck and Tom Sawyer.”

  “Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here—hurry up, trot ahead—I’ll haul the wagon for you. Why, it’s not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it?—or old metal?”

  “Old metal,” said Tom.

  “I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time, hunting up six bits’ worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that’s human nature—hurry along, hurry along!”

  The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about.

  “Never mind; you’ll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas‘.”

  Huck said with some apprehension—for he was long used to being falsely accused:

  “Mr. Jones, we haven’t been doing nothing.”

  The Welshman laughed.

  “Well, I don’t know, Huck, my boy. I don’t know about that. Ain’t you and the widow good friends?”

  “Yes. Well, she’s ben good friends to me, anyways.”

  “All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?”

  This question was not entirely answered in Huck’s slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas’ drawing room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed.

  The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as anyone could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said:

  “Tom wasn’t at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry.”

  “And you did just right,” said the widow. “Come with me, boys.”

  She took them to a bedchamber and said:

  “Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes—shirts, socks, everything complete. They’re Huck‘s—no, no thanks, Huck—Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they’ll fit both of you. Get into them. We’ll wait—come down when you are slicked up enough.”

  Then she left.

  34

  Springing a Secret—Mr. Jones’ Surprise a Failure

  Huck said: “Tom, we can slope,bn if we can find a rope. The window ain’t high from the ground.” “Shucks, what do you want to slope for?”

  “Well, I ain’t used to that kind of a crowd. I can’t stand it. I ain’t going down there, Tom.”

  “Oh, bother! It ain’t anything. I don’t mind it a bit. I’ll take care of you.”

  Sid appeared.

  “Tom,” said he, “Auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody’s been fretting about you. Say—ain’t this grease and clay, on your clothes?”

  “Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist ‘tend to your own business. What’s all this blowout about, anyway?”

  “It’s one of the widow’s parties that she’s always having. This time it’s for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say—I can tell you something, if you want to know.”

  “Well, what?”

  “Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here tonight, but I overheard him tell auntie today about it, as a secret, but I reckon it’s not much of a secret now. Everybody knows—the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don’t. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here—couldn’t get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!”

  “Secret about what, Sid?”

  “About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow’s. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat.”

  Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way.

  “Sid, was it you that told?”

  “Oh, never mind who it was. Somebody told—that’s enough.”

  “Sid, there’s only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that’s you. If you had been in Huck’s place you’d ‘a’ sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can’t do any but mean things, and you can’t bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There—no thanks, as the widow says”—and Tom cuffed Sid’s ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. “Now go and tell auntie if you dare—and tomorrow you’ll catch it!”

  Some minutes later the widow’s guests were at the supper table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty—

  And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about
Huck’s share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody’s gaze and everybody’s laudations.

  The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom’s chance was to come. He said:

  “Huck don’t need it. Huck’s rich.”

  Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it:

  “Huck’s got money. Maybe you don’t believe it, but he’s gots lots of it. Oh, you needn’t smile—I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute.”

  Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest—and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied.

  “Sid, what ails Tom?” said Aunt Polly. “He—well, there ain’t ever any making of that boy out. I never—”

  Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said:

  “There—what did I tell you? Half of it’s Huck’s and half of it’s mine!”

  The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from anyone to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said:

  “I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don’t amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I’m willing to allow.”

  The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than anyone present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property.