by Dave Mckay
It was all she could do to hold in. Her eyes showed anger, and her fingers worked like she wanted to scratch him; and she says: “Who’s ‘everybody’? Out with their names, or there’ll be one less crazy person when I finish with you.”
He got up and looked worried, and played with his hat, and says: “I’m sorry, I weren’t thinking you would take it that way. They all said, kiss her; and said she’d like it -- every one of them. But I’m sorry, ma’am, and I won’t do it no more -- honest.”
“You won’t, won’t you? Well, I should think you won’t!”
“No ma’am, I’m honest about it; I won’t ever do it again -- until you ask me.”
“Until I ask! Well, I never seen anything like it in all my days!”
“Well,” he says, “it does surprise me so. I can’t make it out. They said you would, and I thought you would. But -- “ He stopped and looked around slow, like he wished he could find a friendly eye somewhere, and finished up on the old man’s, and says, “Didn’t you think she’d like me to kiss her, sir?”
“Why, no; I -- I -- well, no, I believe I didn’t.”
Then he looks on around the same way to me, and says: “Tom, didn’t you think Aunt Sally would open out her arms and say, ‘Sid Sawyer, my boy -- ‘”
“My land!” she says, breaking in and jumping for him, “you little devil, to trick a body so.“ She was going to hug him, but he pushed her back, and says: “Not until you’ve asked me first.”
So she didn’t lose no time, but asked him; and hugged him and kissed him over and over again, and then turned him over to the old man, and he took what was left. And after they got a little quiet again she says: “What can I say? I never seen such a surprise. We weren’t looking for you at all, but only Tom. Polly never wrote to me about anybody coming but him.”
“It’s because it weren’t planned for any of us to come but Tom,” he says; “but I begged and begged, and at the last minute she let me come, too; so, coming down the river, me and Tom thought it would be a good surprise for him to come here to the house first, and for me to by and by come along and drop in, and let on to be a stranger. But it was wrong, Aunt Sally. This ain’t no healthy place for a stranger to come.”
“No -- not bad little boys, Sid. You should of had your mouth hit; I ain’t been so put out since I don’t know when. But I don’t care -- I’d be willing to stand a thousand such jokes to have you here. Well, to think of that act! I have to say, I was almost turned to stone with surprise when you give me that kiss.”
We had dinner out in that wide open walk way between the house and the kitchen; and there was things enough on that table for seven families -- and all hot, too; none of your rubber meat that’s laid on a shelf in a wet room under the house all night and tastes like a piece of an old cold body in the morning. Uncle Silas he asked a pretty long blessing over it, but it was worth it; and it didn’t cool it at all, either, the way I’ve seen them kind of prayers do lots of times.
There was a lot of talk all the afternoon, and me and Tom was watching all the time; but it weren’t no use, they didn’t happen to say nothing about any runaway slave, and we was afraid to try to work up to it. But at the table, that night, one of the little boys says: “Pa, can Tom and Sid and me go to the show?”
“No,” says the old man, “There ain’t going to be any; and you couldn’t go if there was. That runaway slave told Burton and me all about the show, and Burton said he'd tell the others. They've probably run those snakes out of town by now.”
So there it was! -- but I couldn’t help it. Tom and me was to sleep in the same room and bed; so, being tired, we said good-night and went up to bed right after eating, and climbed out of the window and down the lightning-rod, and headed for the town; for I didn’t believe anyone was going to tell the king and the duke what was up, and so if I didn’t hurry up and tell them they’d get into big trouble for sure.
On the road Tom told me all about how it was believed I was killed, and how pap was gone pretty soon after, and didn’t come back, and what talk there was when Jim run away; and I told Tom all about our Kings Foolishness devils, and as much of the raft trip as I had time to; and as we come into the town and up through the street -- here come an angry crowd of people with torches, and an awful noise of shouting and banging tin pans and blowing horns; and we jumped to one side to let them go by; and as they went by I see they had the king and the duke sitting on a log -- that is, I knowed it was the king and the duke, but they was all over tar and feathers, and didn’t look like nothing in the world that was a living person -- just looked like two giant feathers. Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry for them poor devils, it seemed like I couldn’t ever feel anything bad against them any more in the world. It was an awful thing to see. People can be awful cruel to one another.
We seen we was too late -- couldn’t do no good. We asked some people about it, and they said everybody went to the show looking like nothing was wrong; and stayed that way until the poor old king was in the middle of his foolishness on the stage; then someone give a sign, and the house jumped up and went for them.
So we went slowly back home, and I weren’t feeling so good as I was before, but kind of bad, and humble, and to blame. I knew that I hadn’t done nothing, but that’s always the way; it don’t make no difference if you do right or wrong, a person’s conscience ain’t got no reason, and just goes for him any way it can. If I had a yellow dog that didn’t know no more than a person’s conscience does I would poison him. It takes up more room than all the rest of a person’s insides, and yet ain’t no good, at all. Tom Sawyer he says the same.
Chapter 34
We stopped talking, and got to thinking. By and by Tom says: “Look here, Huck, how stupid of us not to think of it be- fore! I think I know where Jim is.”
“No! Where?”
“In that little room down by the box of ashes for making soap. Why, look here. When we was at dinner, didn’t you see a servant go in there with some food?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think the food was for?”
“For a dog.”
“So did I. Well, it wasn’t for a dog.”
“Why?”
“Because part of it was watermelon.”
“So it was -- I remember now. How about that? I never thought about a dog not eating watermelon. It shows how a body can see and not see at the same time.”
“Well, the servant unlocked the lock when he went in, and he locked it again when he come out. He asked uncle for a key about the time we got up from table -- same key, I’d say. Watermelon shows it’s a man, lock shows he’s a prisoner; and it ain’t likely there’s two prisoners on such a little farm, where the people’s all so kind and good. Jim’s the prisoner, all right -- I’m glad we found it out just by using our heads; I wouldn’t give dead leaves for any other way. Now you work your mind, and study out a plan to get Jim free, and I’ll study out one, too; and we’ll take the one we like the best.”
What a head for just a boy to have! If I had Tom Sawyer’s head I wouldn’t give it up to be a duke, or a worker on a river- boat, or a clown in a circus, or nothing I can think of. I went to thinking out a plan, but only just to be doing something; I knowed very well where the right plan was going to come from. Pretty soon Tom says: “Ready?”
“Yes,” I says.
“All right -- bring it out.”
“My plan is this,” I says. “We can easy find out if it’s Jim in there. Then get up my canoe tomorrow night, and bring my raft over from the island. Then the first dark night that comes rob the key out of the old man’s pants after he goes to bed, and push off down the river on the raft with Jim, hiding days and running nights, the way me and Jim used to do before. Wouldn’t that plan work?”
“Work? Why, surely it would work, like rats a-fighting. But it’s too simple; there ain’t nothing to it. What’s the good of a plan that ain’t no more trouble than that? It’s as weak as goose-milk. Why, Huck, it would
n’t make no more talk than breaking into the soap works.”
I never said nothing, because I weren’t looking for nothing different; but I knowed mighty well that whenever he got his plan ready it wouldn’t have none of them problems with it.
And it didn’t. He told me what it was, and I see in a minute it was worth fifteen of mine for quality, and would make Jim just as free a man as mine would, and maybe get us all killed besides. So I was happy, and said we would dance in on it. I needn’t tell what it was here, because I knowed it wouldn’t stay the way it was. I knowed he would be changing it around every which way as we went along, and bringing in new adventures wherever he was able. And that is what he done.
Well, one thing was dead sure, and that was that Tom Sawyer was sincere about this, and was really going to help rob that black man out of being a slave. That was the thing that was too much for me. Here was a boy that was well brought up; and had a good name to lose; and with family at home that had good names; and he was smart and not leather-headed; and knowing and not stupid; and not mean, but kind; and yet here he was, without any more pride or feeling, than to come down to the level of this business, and embarrass himself and embarrass his family, before everybody. I couldn’t understand it no way at all. It was hard to believe, and I knowed I should a just up and told him so; and so be his true friend, and let him quit the thing right where he was and save himself. And I did start to tell him; but he shut me up, and says: “Don’t you think I know what I’m about? Don’t I most of the time know what I’m about?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t I say I was going to help you rob the black man?”
“Yes.”
“Well, then.”
That’s all he said, and that’s all I said. It weren’t no use to say any more; because when he said he’d do a thing, he always done it. But I couldn’t make out how he was willing to go into this; so I just let it go, and never worried no more about it. If he was going to have it so, I couldn’t help it.
When we got home the house was all dark and quiet; so we went on down to the one-room shack by the ash-box for to study it. We went through the yard so as to see what the dogs would do. They knowed us, and didn’t make no more noise than country dogs is always doing when anything comes by in the night. When we got to the shack we took a look at the front and the two sides; and on the side I hadn’t seen before -- which was the north side -- we found a square window- hole, up pretty high, with just one strong board nailed across it. I says: “Here’s the ticket. This hole’s big enough for Jim to get through if we pull off the board.”
Tom says: “It’s as easy as one two three, and as easy as missing school. I should hope we can find a way that’s a little more difficult than that, Huck Finn.”
“Well, then,” I says, “how will it do to saw him out, the way I done before I was killed that time?”
“That’s more like it,” he says. “It’s real secret and dangerous, and good,” he says; “but I think we can find a way that’s even longer. There ain’t no hurry; let’s keep on looking around.”
Between the shack and the fence, on the back side, was another smaller room made by leaning boards against the first room. The door to it was at the south end, and was locked. Tom he went to the soap kettle and looked around, and come back with the iron thing they lift the top of the kettle with; so he took it and forced out one of the pieces holding the lock. The chain fell down, and we opened the door and went in, and shut it, and scratched a match, and seen the room was only built against the shack and there was no opening between the two. There weren’t no floor to this side, and nothing in it but some dirty old tools. The match went out, and so did we, and pushed back in the piece that was hold- ing the lock, and the door was locked as good as ever. Tom was happy. He says: “Now we’re all right. We’ll dig him out. It‘ll take about a week!”
Then we started for the house, and I went in the back door -- you only have to pull a leather string to open it, they don’t lock the doors -- but that weren’t good enough for Tom Sawyer; no way would do him but he must climb up the lightning-rod. But after he got up half way about three times, and fell every time, and the last time almost broke his brains out, he thought he’d got to give it up; but after he was rested he said he would give her one more turn for luck, and this time he made the climb all right.
In the morning we was up with the sun, and down to the servants’ cabins to play with the dogs and make friends with the slave that brought the food to Jim -- if it was Jim that he was feeding. The slaves was just getting through breakfast and starting for the fields; and Jim’s servant was filling up a tin pan with bread and meat and things; and while the others was leaving, the key come from the house.
This black man had a friendly face that didn’t look too smart, and his hair was all tied up in little balls with thread. That was to keep witches off. He said the witches was troubling him awful these nights, and making him see all kinds of strange things, and hear all kinds of strange words and noises, and he didn’t believe he was ever witched so long before in his life. He got so worked up, and got to running on so about his troubles, he couldn’t remember what he’d been a-going to do. So Tom says: “What’s the food for? Going to feed the dogs?”
The black man kind of smiled around slowly with the smile moving out over his face, like when you throw a stone into water, and he says: “Yes, Master Sid, a dog. Strange dog, too. Does you want to go and look at him?”
“Yes.”
I hit Tom, and whispers: “You going, right here in the light? That weren’t the plan.”
“No, it weren’t; but it’s the plan now.”
So we went along, but I didn’t like it much. When we got in we couldn’t hardly see anything, it was so dark; but Jim was there, sure enough, and could see us; and he sings out: “Why, Huck! And good land! ain't dat Master Tom?”
I just knowed how it would be; I just knew it. I didn’t know nothing to do; and if I had I couldn’t a done it, because that servant cut in and says to us: “Why, good Lord! do he know you men?”
We could see pretty well now. Tom he looked at the servant, not doing anything, and says: “Does who know us?”
“Why, dis here runaway nigger.”
“I don’t think he does; but what put that into your head?”
“What put it there? Didn’t he just dis minute sing out like he knowed you?”
Tom says, in a confused kind of way: “Well, that’s mighty strange. Who said anything? When did he sing out? What did he say?” And turns to me, perfectly relaxed, and says, “Did you hear anyone sing out?”
Well, there weren’t nothing to be said but the one thing; so I says: “No; I ain’t heard nobody say nothing.”
Then he turns to Jim, and looks him over like he never seen him before, and says: “Did you sing out?”
“No, sir,” says Jim; “I ain’t said nothing, sir.”
“Not a word?”
“No, sir, I ain’t said a word.”
“Did you ever see us before?”
“No, sir; not as I knows.”
So Tom turns to the servant, who was looking wild and confused, and says, kind of seriously: “What do you think’s wrong with you, anyway? What made you think somebody shouted out?”
“Oh, it’s de blowed out witches, sir, and I wished I was dead, I do. Dey’s always at it, sir, and dey do most kill me, dey scares me so. Please don’t tell nobody about it sir, or old Master Silas he’ll come at me; because he say dey ain’t no witches. I just wish to God he was here now -- den what would he say! I just know he couldn’t find no way to get around it dis time. But it’s always just so; people dat’s sat, stays sat; dey won’t look into nothing and find it out for deyselves, and when you find it out and tell ‘em about it, dey don’t believe you.”
Tom give him ten cents, and said we wouldn’t tell nobody; and told him to buy some more thread to tie up his hair with; and then looks at Jim, and says: “Do you think Uncle Silas is going to hang this b
lack man? If I was to catch a black man that was evil enough to run away, I wouldn’t give him up, I’d hang him.” And while the servant stepped to the door to look at the coin and bite it to see if it was good, he whispers to Jim and says: “Don’t ever let on to know us. And if you hear any digging going on nights, it’s us; we’re going to free you.”
Jim only had time to take us by the hand and squeeze it; then the servant come back, and we said we’d come again some time if he wanted us to; and he said he would, more so if it was dark, because the witches went for him mostly in the dark, and it was good to have people around then.
Chapter 35
It would be another hour before breakfast, so we went down into the trees, because Tom said we got to have some light to see how to dig by, and a lantern makes too much, and might get us into trouble. What we must have was a lot of them stones that’s called fox-fire, that just makes a soft kind of a light when you put them in a dark place. We found as many as we could carry and put them in the weeds, and sat down to rest, and Tom says, kind of not happy with things: “Curse it, this whole thing is just as easy and stupid as it can be. The most difficult part is just getting up a difficult plan. There ain’t no watchman to be drugged -- now there should be a watchman. There ain’t even a dog to give a sleeping-mixture to. And there’s Jim chained by one leg, with a ten-foot chain, to the leg of his bed: why, all you got to do is to lift up the bed and off comes the chain. And Uncle Silas he trusts everybody; sends the key to that stupid black man, and don’t send nobody to watch him. Jim could a got out that window-hole by now, only there wouldn’t be no use trying to travel with a ten-foot chain on his leg. Why, hit it, Huck, it’s the stupidest thing I ever seen. We got to make up all the problems. Well, we can’t help it; so we'll do the best we can with what we’ve got. Anyway, there’s more glory in getting him out through a lot of problems and dangers, where there weren’t one of them given to you by the people who it was their job to do it, and you had to make them all out of your own head. Now look at just that one thing of the lantern. When you come down to the cold truth, we really got to let on that a lantern’s dangerous. Why, we could work with a parade full of torches if we wanted to, I believe. While I’m thinking of it, we got to hunt up something to make a saw out of the first opening we get.”