ms to me I did, then again it seems to me I didn't."
   "I didn't either; but it had its bag along, I noticed that."
   "So did I. How can there be a ghost-bag, Tom?"
   "Sho!  I  wouldn't  be  as  ignorant  as  that if I was you, Huck Finn.
Whatever  a  ghost  has,  turns  to ghost-stuff. They've got to have their
things,  like anybody else. You see, yourself, that its clothes was turned
to ghost-stuff. Well, then, what's to hender its bag from turning, too? Of
course it done it."
   That was reasonable. I couldn't find no fault with it. Bill Withers and
his brother Jack come along by, talking, and Jack says:
   "What do you reckon he was toting?"
   "I dunno; but it was pretty heavy."
   "Yes,  all  he could lug. Nigger stealing corn from old Parson Silas, I
judged."
   "So did I. And so I allowed I wouldn't let on to see him."
   "That's me, too."
   Then  they  both  laughed,  and  went  on out of hearing. It showed how
unpopular  old  Uncle  Silas  had  got  to be now. They wouldn't 'a' let a
nigger steal anybody else's corn and never done anything to him.
   We heard some more voices mumbling along towards us and getting louder,
and sometimes a cackle of a laugh. It was Lem Beebe and Jim Lane. Jim Lane
says:
   "Who?-Jubiter Dunlap?"
   "Yes."
   "Oh, I don't know. I reckon so. I seen him spading up some ground along
about an hour ago, just before sundown-him and the parson. Said he guessed
he wouldn't go to-night, but we could have his dog if we wanted him."
   "Too tired, I reckon."
   "Yes-works so hard!"
   "Oh, you bet!"
   They  cackled  at that, and went on by. Tom said we better jump out and
tag  along  after  them, because they was going our way and it wouldn't be
comfortable  to  run across the ghost all by ourselves. So we done it, and
got home all right.
   That  night  was  the  second  of  September-a Saturday. I sha'n't ever
forget it. You'll see why, pretty soon .


        Chapter VI. PLANS TO SECURE THE DIAMONDS

   WE  tramped  along  behind  Jim  and Lem till we come to the back stile
where  old  Jim's cabin was that he was captivated in, the time we set him
free,  and here come the dogs piling around us to say howdy, and there was
the  lights of the house, too; so we warn't afeard any more, and was going
to climb over, but Tom says:
   "Hold on; set down here a minute. By George!"
   "What's the matter?" says I.
   "Matter  enough!"  he says. "Wasn't you expecting we would be the first
to  tell  the family who it is that's been killed yonder in the sycamores,
and  all  about  them  rapscallions  that  done it, and about the di'monds
they've  smouched  off  of  the corpse, and paint it up fine, and have the
glory of being the ones that knows a lot more about it than anybody else?"
   "Why, of course. It wouldn't be you, Tom Sawyer, if you was to let such
a chance go by. I reckon it ain't going to suffer none for lack of paint,"
I says, "when you start in to scollop the facts."
   "Well,  now,"  he says, perfectly ca'm, "what would you say if I was to
tell you I ain't going to start in at all?"
   I was astonished to hear him talk so. I says:
   "I'd say it's a lie. You ain't in earnest, Tom Sawyer?"
   "You'll soon see. Was the ghost barefooted?"
   "No, it wasn't. What of it?"
   "You wait-I'll show you what. Did it have its boots on?"
   "Yes. I seen them plain."
   "Swear it?"
   "Yes, I swear it."
   "So do I. Now do you know what that means?"
   "No. What does it mean?"
   "Means that them thieves DIDN'T GET THE DI'MONDS."
   "Jimminy! What makes you think that?"
   "I  don't only think it, I know it. Didn't the breeches and goggles and
whiskers  and  hand-bag  and  every  blessed  thing  turn  to ghost-stuff?
Everything it had on turned, didn't it? It shows that the reason its boots
turned  too  was  because  it  still  had  them  on after it started to go
ha'nting  around,  and  if that ain't proof that them blatherskites didn't
get the boots, I'd like to know what you'd CALL proof."
   Think  of that now. I never see such a head as that boy had. Why, I had
eyes  and  I could see things, but they never meant nothing to me. But Tom
Sawyer  was  different. When Tom Sawyer seen a thing it just got up on its
hind  legs  and  TALKED  to him-told him everything it knowed. I never see
such a head.
   "Tom  Sawyer," I says, "I'll say it again as I've said it a many a time
before:  I  ain't  fitten to black your boots. But that's all right-that's
neither  here  nor there. God Almighty made us all, and some He gives eyes
that's  blind,  and some He gives eyes that can see, and I reckon it ain't
none of our lookout what He done it for; it's all right, or He'd 'a' fixed
it some other way. Go on-I see plenty plain enough, now, that them thieves
didn't get way with the di'monds. Why didn't they, do you reckon?"
   "Because  they  got chased away by them other two men before they could
pull the boots off of the corpse."
   "That's  so!  I see it now. But looky here, Tom, why ain't we to go and
tell about it?"
   "Oh,  shucks,  Huck  Finn, can't you see? Look at it. What's a-going to
happen?  There's  going to be an inquest in the morning. Them two men will
tell  how  they  heard the yells and rushed there just in time to not save
the  stranger.  Then  the  jury'll  twaddle  and  twaddle and twaddle, and
finally  they'll  fetch  in  a verdict that he got shot or stuck or busted
over  the head with something, and come to his death by the inspiration of
God.  And  after  they've buried him they'll auction off his things for to
pay the expenses, and then's OUR chance." "How, Tom?"
   "Buy the boots for two dollars!"
   Well, it 'most took my breath.
   "My land! Why, Tom, WE'LL get the di'monds!"
   "You bet. Some day there'll be a big reward offered for them-a thousand
dollars,  sure. That's our money! Now we'll trot in and see the folks. And
mind  you we don't know anything about any murder, or any di'monds, or any
thieves-don't you forget that."
   I  had  to sigh a little over the way he had got it fixed. I'd 'a' SOLD
them  di'monds-yes,  sir-for  twelve  thousand  dollars;  but I didn't say
anything. It wouldn't done any good. I says:
   "But  what  are  we  going  to tell your aunt Sally has made us so long
getting down here from the village, Tom?"
   "Oh,  I'll  leave  that  to you," he says. "I reckon you can explain it
somehow."
   He  was always just that strict and delicate. He never would tell a lie
himself.
   We  struck  across the big yard, noticing this, that, and t'other thing
that  was  so familiar, and we so glad to see it again, and when we got to
the  roofed  big  passageway  betwixt the double log house and the kitchen
part,  there  was  everything  hanging on the wall just as it used to was,
even  to Uncle Silas's old faded green baize working-gown with the hood to
it,  and raggedy white patch between the shoulders that always looked like
somebody  had  hit  him  with a snowball; and then we lifted the latch and
walked in. Aunt Sally she was just a-ripping and a-tearing around, and the
children  was huddled in one corner, and the old man he was huddled in the
other and praying for help in time of need. She jumped for us with joy and
tears  running  down  her  face and give us a whacking box on the ear, and
then hugged us and kissed us and boxed us again, and just couldn't seem to
get enough of it, she was so glad to see us; and she says:
   "Where  HAVE  you  been  a-loafing to, you good-for-nothing trash! I've
been  that worried about you I didn't know what to do. Your traps has been
here ever so long, and I've had supper cooked fresh about four times so as
to  have  it  hot and good when you come, till at last my patience is just
plumb  wore out, and I declare I-I-why I could skin you alive! You must be
starving,  poor  things!-set down, set down, everybody; don't lose no more
time."
   It  was  good  to  be  there  again behind all that noble corn-pone and
spareribs,  and  everything  that  you  could ever want in this world. Old
Uncle  Silas he peeled off one of his bulliest old-time blessings, with as
many  layers  to  it as an onion, and whilst the angels was hauling in the
slack  of  it  I  was trying to study up what to say about what kept us so
long. When our plates was all loadened and we'd got a-going, she asked me,
and I says:
   "Well, you see,-er-Mizzes-"
   "Huck  Finn!  Since when am I Mizzes to you? Have I ever been stingy of
cuffs  or  kisses  for you since the day you stood in this room and I took
you  for Tom Sawyer and blessed God for sending you to me, though you told
me  four  thousand lies and I believed every one of them like a simpleton?
Call me Aunt Sally-like you always done."
   So I done it. And I says:
   "Well, me and Tom allowed we would come along afoot and take a smell of
the  woods, and we run across Lem Beebe and Jim Lane, and they asked us to
go  with  them  blackberrying to-night, and said they could borrow Jubiter
Dunlap's dog, because he had told them just that minute-"
   "Where did they see him?" says the old man; and when I looked up to see
how  HE  come to take an intrust in a little thing like that, his eyes was
just  burning  into  me,  he was that eager. It surprised me so it kind of
throwed me off, but I pulled myself together again and says:
   "It  was  when  he  was  spading up some ground along with you, towards
sundown or along there."
   He only said, "Um," in a kind of a disappointed way, and didn't take no
more intrust. So I went on. I says:
   "Well, then, as I was a-saying-"
   "That'll  do,  you  needn't  go  no furder." It was Aunt Sally. She was
boring  right  into me with her eyes, and very indignant. "Huck Finn," she
says,  "how'd  them  men  come  to  talk  about  going a-black-berrying in
September-in THIS region?"
   I  see  I  had slipped up, and I couldn't say a word. She waited, still
a-gazing at me, then she says:
   "And how'd they come to strike that idiot idea of going a-blackberrying
in the night?"
   "Well, m'm, they-er-they told us they had a lantern, and-"
   "Oh, SHET up-do! Looky here; what was they going to do with a dog?-hunt
blackberries with it?"
   "I think, m'm, they-"
   "Now,  Tom  Sawyer,  what  kind  of  a lie are you fixing YOUR mouth to
contribit  to  this  mess  of rubbage? Speak out-and I warn you before you
begin,  that  I  don't  believe  a  word  of it. You and Huck's been up to
something you no business to-I know it perfectly well; I know you, BOTH of
you. Now you explain that dog, and them blackberries, and the lantern, and
the  rest  of  that  rot-and  mind you talk as straight as a string-do you
hear?"
   Tom he looked considerable hurt, and says, very dignified:
   "It  is  a  pity if Huck is to be talked to that way, just for making a
little bit of a mistake that anybody could make."
   "What mistake has he made?"
   "Why,  only  the mistake of saying blackberries when of course he meant
strawberries."
   "Tom Sawyer, I lay if you aggravate me a little more, I'll-"
   "Aunt  Sally, without knowing it-and of course without intending it-you
are  in the wrong. If you'd 'a' studied natural history the way you ought,
you  would  know that all over the world except just here in Arkansaw they
ALWAYS hunt strawberries with a dog-and a lantern-"
   But  she  busted in on him there and just piled into him and snowed him
under.  She was so mad she couldn't get the words out fast enough, and she
gushed  them  out in one everlasting freshet. That was what Tom Sawyer was
after.  He  allowed  to work her up and get her started and then leave her
alone  and  let her burn herself out. Then she would be so aggravated with
that  subject that she wouldn't say another word about it, nor let anybody
else. Well, it happened just so. When she was tuckered out and had to hold
up, he says, quite ca'm:
   "And yet, all the same, Aunt Sally-"
   "Shet up!" she says, "I don't want to hear another word out of you."
   So  we  was perfectly safe, then, and didn't have no more trouble about
that delay. Tom done it elegant.


        Chapter VII. A NIGHT'S VIGIL

   BENNY  she was looking pretty sober, and she sighed some, now and then;
but  pretty  soon  she  got  to asking about Mary, and Sid, and Tom's aunt
Polly,  and  then  Aunt  Sally's  clouds cleared off and she got in a good
humor  and joined in on the questions and was her lovingest best self, and
so  the rest of the supper went along gay and pleasant. But the old man he
didn't  take any hand hardly, and was absent-minded and restless, and done
a considerable amount of sighing; and it was kind of heart-breaking to see
him so sad and troubled and worried.
   By  and by, a spell after supper, come a nigger and knocked on the door
and  put  his  head  in  with  his  old  straw  hat in his hand bowing and
scraping,  and  said  his  Marse Brace was out at the stile and wanted his
brother,  and  was  getting  tired waiting supper for him, and would Marse
Silas  please  tell  him where he was? I never see Uncle Silas speak up so
sharp and fractious before. He says:
   "Am  I  his brother's keeper?" And then he kind of wilted together, and
looked  like he wished he hadn't spoken so, and then he says, very gentle:
"But  you  needn't say that, Billy; I was took sudden and irritable, and I
ain't  very well these days, and not hardly responsible. Tell him he ain't
here."
   And  when the nigger was gone he got up and walked the floor, backwards
and  forwards,  mumbling  and  muttering  to himself and plowing his hands
through his hair. It was real pitiful to see him. Aunt Sally she whispered
to  us and told us not to take notice of him, it embarrassed him. She said
he was always thinking and thinking, since these troubles come on, and she
allowed  he  didn't  more'n  about  half  know  what he was about when the
thinking  spells  was  on  him;  and  she  said  he  walked  in  his sleep
considerable  more now than he used to, and sometimes wandered around over
the  house  and even outdoors in his sleep, and if we catched him at it we
must let him alone and not disturb him. She said she reckoned it didn't do
him  no harm, and may be it done him good. She said Benny was the only one
that  was  much  help  to him these days. Said Benny appeared to know just
when to try to soothe him and when to leave him alone.
   So he kept on tramping up and down the floor and muttering, till by and
by  he  begun to look pretty tired; then Benny she went and snuggled up to
his  side  and put one hand in his and one arm around his waist and walked
with  him; and he smiled down on her, and reached down and kissed her; and
so,  little  by  little the trouble went out of his face and she persuaded
him  off  to  his  room.  They  had very petting ways together, and it was
uncommon pretty to see.
   Aunt  Sally  she was busy getting the children ready for bed; so by and
by  it  got dull and tedious, and me and Tom took a turn in the moonlight,
and  fetched up in the watermelon-patch and et one, and had a good deal of
talk. And Tom said he'd bet the quarreling was all Jubiter's fault, and he
was going to be on hand the first time he got a chance, and see; and if it
was  so,  he was going to do his level best to get Uncle Silas to turn him
off.
   And  so we talked and smoked and stuffed watermelons much as two hours,
and  then it was pretty late, and when we got back the house was quiet and
dark, and everybody gone to bed.
   Tom  he always seen everything, and now he see that the old green baize
work-gown  was  gone,  and  said  it  wasn't  gone when he went out; so he
allowed it was curious, and then we went up to bed.
   We  could  hear  Benny  stirring  around in her room, which was next to
ourn, and judged she was worried a good deal about her father and couldn't
sleep. We found we couldn't, neither. So we set up a long time, and smoked
and  talked  in  a  low  voice,  and felt pretty dull and down-hearted. We
talked the murder and the ghost over and over again, and got so creepy and
crawly we couldn't get sleepy nohow and noway.
   By  and  by,  when it was away late in the night and all the sounds was
late  sounds  and  solemn, Tom nudged me and whispers to me to look, and I
done  it,  and there we see a man poking around in the yard like he didn't
know  just what he wanted to do, but it was pretty dim and we couldn't see
him  good.  Then he started for the stile, and as he went over it the moon
came  out  strong, and he had a long-handled shovel over his shoulder, and
we see the white patch on the old work-gown. So Tom says:
   "He's  a-walking  in his sleep. I wish we was allowed to follow him and
see  where  he's  going to. There, he's turned down by the tobacker-field.
Out of sight now. It's a dreadful pity he can't rest no better."
   We  waited  a long time, but he didn't come back any more, or if he did
he  come  around the other way; so at last we was tuckered out and went to
sleep  and had nightmares, a million of them. But before dawn we was awake
again,  because  meantime  a  storm  had  come up and been raging, and the
thunder  and  lightning  was awful, and the wind was a-thrashing the trees
around,  and the rain was driving down in slanting sheets, and the gullies
was running rivers. Tom says:
   "Looky here, Huck, I'll tell you one thing that's mighty curious. Up to
the  time we went out last night the family hadn't heard about Jake Dunlap
being  murdered.  Now  the  men that chased Hal Clayton and Bud Dixon away
would  spread  the thing around in a half an hour, and every neighbor that
heard it would shin out and fly around from one farm to t'other and try to
be  the  first to tell the news. Land, they don't have such a big thing as
that  to  tell  twice  in  thirty year! Huck, it's mighty strange; I don't
understand it."
   So then he was in a fidget for the rain to let up, so we could turn out
and run across some of the people and see if they would say anything about
it  to  us.  And  he  said  if  they did we must be horribly surprised and
shocked.
   We  was out and gone the minute the rain stopped. It was just broad day
then.  We  loafed  along  up  the  road, and now and then met a person and
stopped  and  said  howdy, and told them when we come, and how we left the
folks  at  home, and how long we was going to stay, and all that, but none
of  them  said a word about that thing; which was just astonishing, and no
mistake.  Tom  said  he believed if we went to the sycamores we would find
that  body laying there solitary and alone, and not a soul around. Said he
believed the men chased the thieves so far into the woods that the thieves
prob'ly  seen a good chance and turned on them at last, and maybe they all
killed each other, and so there wasn't anybody left to tell.
   First  we  knowed,  gabbling  along  that  away,  we  was  right at the
sycamores.  The  cold  chills  trickled  down my back and I wouldn't budge
another  step, for all Tom's persuading. But he couldn't hold in; he'd GOT
to see if the boots was safe on that body yet. So he crope in-and the next
minute  out  he  come  again  with his eyes bulging he was so excited, and
says:
   "Huck, it's gone!"
   I WAS astonished! I says:
   "Tom, you don't mean it."
   "It's  gone,  sure.  There  ain't  a sign of it. The ground is trampled
some,  but  if  there was any blood it's all washed away by the storm, for
it's all puddles and slush in there."
   At  last I give in, and went and took a look myself; and it was just as
Tom said-there wasn't a sign of a corpse.
   "Dern  it," I says, "the di'monds is gone. Don't you reckon the thieves
slunk back and lugged him off, Tom?"
   "Looks like it. It just does. Now where'd they hide him, do you reckon?"
   "I  don't  know,"  I  says,  disgusted,  "and what's more I don't care.
They've  got  the  boots,  and  that's all I cared about. He'll lay around
these woods a long time before I hunt him up."
   Tom  didn't feel no more intrust in him neither, only curiosity to know
what  come  of him; but he said we'd lay low and keep dark and it wouldn't
be long till the dogs or somebody rousted him out.
   We  went  back  home  to  breakfast  ever  so  bothered and put out and
disappointed and swindled. I warn't ever so down on a corpse before.


        Chapter VIII. TALKING WITH THE GHOST

   IT  warn't  very  cheerful  at breakfast. Aunt Sally she looked old and
tired  and  let the children snarl and fuss at one another and didn't seem
to  notice it was going on, which wasn't her usual style; me and Tom had a
plenty  to  think  about without talking; Benny she looked like she hadn't
had much sleep, and whenever she'd lift her head a little and steal a look
towards  her  father you could see there was tears in her eyes; and as for
the  old  man,  his  things  stayed  on his plate and got cold without him
knowing they was there, I reckon, for he was thinking and thinking all the
time, and never said a word and never et a bite.
   By  and by when it was stillest, that nigger's head was poked in at the
door  again, and he said his Marse Brace was getting powerful uneasy about
Marse  Jubiter,  which  hadn't come home yet, and would Marse Silas please
-He was looking at Uncle Silas, and he stopped there, like the rest of his
words  was  froze;  for  Uncle Silas he rose up shaky and steadied himself
leaning his fingers on the table, and he was panting, and his eyes was set
on  the  nigger,  and he kept swallowing, and put his other hand up to his
throat a couple of times, and at last he got his words started, and says:
   "Does  he-does he-think-WHAT does he think! Tell him-tell him-" Then he
sunk  down  in  his  chair limp and weak, and says, so as you could hardly
hear him: "Go away-go away!"
   The nigger looked scared and cleared out, and we all felt-well, I don't
know  how  we  felt, but it was awful, with the old man panting there, and
his  eyes  set  and looking like a person that was dying. None of us could
budge;  but  Benny  she slid around soft, with her tears running down, and
stood  by his side, and nestled his old gray head up against her and begun
to  stroke  it and pet it with her hands, and nodded to us to go away, and
we done it, going out very quiet, like the dead was there.
   Me  and  Tom  struck  out  for  the woods mighty solemn, and saying how
different  it  was  now  to  what  it was last summer when we was here and
everything  was  so  peaceful  and  happy and everybody thought so much of
Uncle  Silas,  and he was so cheerful and simple-hearted and pudd'n-headed
and  good-and  now  look at him. If he hadn't lost his mind he wasn't muck
short of it. That was what we allowed.
   It  was  a  most  lovely  day  now,  and bright and sun. shiny; and the
further  and  further  we  went  over  the  hills  towards the prairie the
lovelier  and  lovelier  the  trees  and flowers got to be and the more it
seemed  strange  and  somehow wrong that there had to be trouble in such a
world  as  this.  And then all of a sudden I catched my breath and grabbed
Tom's arm, and all my livers and lungs and things fell down into my legs.
   "There  it is!" I says. We jumped back behind a bush shivering, and Tom
says:
   "Sh!-don't make a noise."
   It  was  setting  on  a  log  right  in  the  edge of a little prairie,
thinking.  I  tried to get Tom to come away, but he wouldn't, and I dasn't
budge  by  myself. He said we mightn't ever get another chance to see one,
and  he  was  going  to  look his fill at this one if he died for it. So I
looked  too,  though it give me the fan-tods to do it. Tom he HAD to talk,
but he talked low. He says:
   "Poor  Jakey, it's got all its things on, just as he said he would. NOW
you  see  what we wasn't certain about-its hair. It's not long now the way
it  was:  it's got it cropped close to its head, the way he said he would.
Huck, I never see anything look any more naturaler than what It does."
   "Nor I neither," I says; "I'd recognize it anywheres."
   "So  would  I.  It  looks perfectly solid and genuwyne, just the way it
done before it died."
   So we kept a-gazing. Pretty soon Tom says:
   "Huck, there's something mighty curious about this one, don't you know?
IT oughtn't to be going around in the daytime."
   "That's so, Tom-I never heard the like of it before."
   "No,  sir,  they  don't  ever come out only at night- and then not till
after  twelve.  There's  something  wrong  about this one, now you mark my
words. I don't believe it's got any right to be around in the daytime. But
don't  it  look natural! Jake was going to play deef and dumb here, so the
neighbors  wouldn't  know  his voice. Do you reckon it would do that if we
was to holler at it?"
   "Lordy,  Tom,  don't  talk so! If you was to holler at it I'd die in my
tracks."
   "Don't  you  worry,  I  ain't  going  to holler at it. Look, Huck, it's
a-scratching its head-don't you see?"
   "Well, what of it?"
   "Why,  this.  What's  the  sense of it scratching its head? There ain't
anything  there  to  itch;  its  head is made out of fog or something like
that, and can't itch. A fog can't itch; any fool knows that."
   "Well,  then, if it don't itch and can't itch, what in the nation is it
scratching it for? Ain't it just habit, don't you reckon?"
   "No, sir, I don't. I ain't a bit satisfied about the way this one acts.
I've a blame good notion it's a bogus one-I have, as sure as I'm a-sitting
here. Because, if it-Huck!"
   "Well, what's the matter now?"
   "YOU CAN'T SEE THE BUSHES THROUGH IT!"
   "Why,  Tom,  it's  so, sure! It's as solid as a cow. I sort of begin to
think-"
   "Huck,  it's  biting  off  a  chaw  of  tobacker! By George, THEY don't
chaw-they hain't got anything to chaw WITH. Huck!"
   "I'm a-listening."
   "It ain't a ghost at all. It's Jake Dunlap his own self!"
   "Oh your granny!" I says.
   "Huck Finn, did we find any corpse in the sycamores?"
   "No."
   "Or any sign of one?"
   "No."
   "Mighty good reason. Hadn't ever been any corpse there."
   "Why, Tom, you know we heard-"
   "Yes,  we  did-heard a howl or two. Does that prove anybody was killed?
Course  it don't. And we seen four men run, then this one come walking out
and we took it for a ghost. No more ghost than you are. It was Jake Dunlap
his  own  self,  and  it's  Jake  Dunlap  now.  He's been and got his hair
cropped,  the  way  he  said  he  would,  and  he's  playing himself for a
stranger,  just the same as he said he would. Ghost? Hum!-he's as sound as
a nut."
   Then  I  see  it  all,  and how we had took too much for granted. I was
powerful  glad he didn't get killed, and so was Tom, and we wondered which
he  would  like  the  best-for us to never let on to know him, or how? Tom
reckoned  the  best  way  would be to go and ask him. So he started; but I
kept a little behind, because I didn't know but it might be a ghost, after
all. When Tom got to where he was, he says:
   "Me and Huck's mighty glad to see you again, and you needn't be afeared
we'll  tell. And if you think it'll be safer for you if we don't let on to
know  you  when  we  run  across  you, say the word and you'll see you can
depend  on  us,  and  would ruther cut our hands off than get you into the
least little bit of danger."
   First off he looked surprised to see us, and not very glad, either; but
as  Tom  went on he looked pleasanter, and when he was done he smiled, and
nodded his head several times, and made signs with his hands, and says:
   "Goo-goo-goo-goo," the way deef and dummies does.
   Just  then  we  see  some of Steve Nickerson's people coming that lived
t'other side of the prairie, so Tom says:
   "You  do  it  elegant;  I never see anybody do it better. You're right;
play  it  on  us, too; play it on us same as the others; it'll keep you in
practice and prevent you making blunders. We'll keep away from you and let
on  we  don't  know  you, but any time we can be any help, you just let us
know."
   Then  we  loafed along past the Nickersons, and of course they asked if
that  was  the new stranger yonder, and where'd he come from, and what was
his  name,  and  which  communion  was he, Babtis' or Methodis', and which
politics, Whig or Democrat, and how long is he staying, and all them other
questions that humans always asks when a stranger comes, and animals does,
too.  But  Tom  said  he warn't able to make anything out of deef and dumb
signs,  and the same with goo-gooing. Then we watched them go and bullyrag
Jake;  because  we  was  pretty uneasy for him. Tom said it would take him
days  to  get so he wouldn't forget he was a deef and dummy sometimes, and
speak  out  before he thought. When we had watched long enough to see that
Jake  was  getting  along  all  right  and working his signs very good, we
loafed  along again, allowing to strike the schoolhouse about recess time,
which was a three-mile tramp.
   I  was  so  disappointed  not  to  hear  Jake tell about the row in the
sycamores, and how near he come to getting killed, that I couldn't seem to
get over it, and Tom he felt the same, but said if we was in Jake's fix we
would want to go careful and keep still and not take any chances.
   The boys and girls was all glad to see us again, and we had a real good
time  all  through  recess.  Coming  to school the Henderson boys had come
across  the  new deef and dummy and told the rest; so all the scholars was
chuck  full  of  him  and  couldn't talk about anything else, and was in a
sweat to get a sight of him because they hadn't ever seen a deef and dummy
in their lives, and it made a powerful excitement.
   Tom  said it was tough to have to keep mum now; said we would be heroes
if  we  could come out and tell all we knowed; but after all, it was still
more  heroic  to keep mum, there warn't two boys in a million could do it.
That  was  Tom  Sawyer's  idea about it, and reckoned there warn't anybody
could better it.


        Chapter IX. FINDING OF JUBITER DUNLAP

   IN  the  next two or three days Dummy he got to be powerful popular. He
went associating around with the neighbors, and they made much of him, and
was  proud  to  have such a rattling curiosity among them. They had him to
breakfast,  they  had him to dinner, they had him to supper; they kept him
loaded  up  with  hog and hominy, and warn't ever tired staring at him and
wondering  over  him,  and  wishing  they knowed more about him, he was so
uncommon   and  romantic.  His  signs  warn't  no  good;  people  couldn't
understand  them  and  he prob'ly couldn't himself, but he done a sight of
goo-gooing, and so everybody was satisfied, and admired to hear him go it.
He toted a piece of slate around, and a pencil; and people wrote questions
on  it  and  he  wrote  answers;  but  there warn't anybody could read his
writing but Brace Dunlap. Brace said he couldn't read it very good, but he
could  manage  to dig out the meaning most of the time. He said Dummy said
he  belonged  away  off  somers and used to be well off, but got busted by
swindlers  which  he  had trusted, and was poor now, and hadn't any way to
make a living.
   Everybody  praised  Brace Dunlap for being so good to that stranger. He
let  him  have a little log-cabin all to himself, and had his niggers take
care of it, and fetch him all the vittles he wanted.
   Dummy  was  at our house some, because old Uncle Silas was so afflicted
himself, these days, that anybody else that was afflicted was a comfort to
him. Me and Tom didn't let on that we had knowed him before, and he didn't
let  on that he had knowed us before. The family talked their troubles out
before  him  the same as if he wasn't there, but we reckoned it wasn't any
harm for him to hear what they said. Generly he didn't seem to notice, but
sometimes he did.
   Well, two or three days went along, and everybody got to getting uneasy
about  Jubiter Dunlap. Everybody was asking everybody if they had any idea
what  had  become of him. No, they hadn't, they said: and they shook their
heads  and said there was something powerful strange about it. Another and
another  day went by; then there was a report got around that praps he was
murdered. You bet it made a big stir! Everybody's tongue was clacking away
after that. Saturday two or three gangs turned out and hunted the woods to
see if they could run across his remainders. Me and Tom helped, and it was
noble good times and exciting. Tom he was so brimful of it he couldn't eat
nor rest. He said if we could find that corpse we would be celebrated, and
more talked about than if we got drownded.
   The others got tired and give it up; but not Tom Sawyer-that warn't his
style.  Saturday  night  he didn't sleep any, hardly, trying to think up a
plan;  and  towards daylight in the morning he struck it. He snaked me out
of bed and was all excited, and says:
   "Quick, Huck, snatch on your clothes-I've got it! Bloodhound!"
   In two minutes we was tearing up the river road in the dark towards the
village.  Old  Jeff  Hooker  had a bloodhound, and Tom was going to borrow
him. I says:
   "The trail's too old, Tom-and besides, it's rained, you know."
   "It  don't  make  any  difference, Huck. If the body's hid in the woods
anywhere  around the hound will find it. If he's been murdered and buried,
they wouldn't bury him deep, it ain't likely, and if the dog goes over the
spot  he'll  scent  him, sure. Huck, we're going to be celebrated, sure as
you're born!"
   He  was just a-blazing; and whenever he got afire he was most likely to
get  afire all over. That was the way this time. In two minutes he had got
it  all ciphered out, and wasn't only just going to find the corpse-no, he
was going to get on the track of that murderer and hunt HIM down, too; and
not only that, but he was going to stick to him till- "Well," I says, "you
better find the corpse first; I reckon that's a-plenty for to-day. For all
we know, there AIN'T any corpse and nobody hain't been murdered. That cuss
could 'a' gone off somers and not been killed at all."
   That graveled him, and he says:
   "Huck  Finn,  I  never  see  such  a  person  as  you  to want to spoil
everything.  As  long  as  YOU  can't see anything hopeful in a thing, you
won't  let  anybody  else.  What good can it do you to throw cold water on
that  corpse  and  get  up  that  selfish theory that there ain't been any
murder?  None  in  the  world.  I don't see how you can act so. I wouldn't
treat  you  like  that,  and  you  know  it.  Here  we've got a noble good
opportunity to make a ruputation, and-"
   "Oh,  go  ahead,"  I says. "I'm sorry, and I take it all back. I didn't
mean  nothing. Fix it any way you want it. HE ain't any consequence to me.
If he's killed, I'm as glad of it as you are; and if he-"
   "I never said anything about being glad; I only-"
   "Well, then, I'm as SORRY as you are. Any way you druther have it, that
is the way I druther have it. He-"
   "There  ain't  any  druthers  ABOUT it, Huck Finn; nobody said anything
about druthers. And as for-"
   He  forgot  he was talking, and went tramping along, studying. He begun
to get excited again, and pretty soon he says:
   "Huck,  it'll  be  the bulliest thing that ever happened if we find the
body  after everybody else has quit looking, and then go ahead and hunt up
the  murderer.  It  won't only be an honor to us, but it'll be an honor to
Uncle  Silas  because  it was us that done it. It'll set him up again, you
see if it don't."
   But Old Jeff Hooker he throwed cold water on the whole business when we
got to his blacksmith shop and told him what we come for.
   "You  can  take  the  dog," he says, "but you ain't a-going to find any
corpse,  because there ain't any corpse to find. Everybody's quit looking,
and they're right. Soon as they come to think, they knowed there warn't no
corpse.  And I'll tell you for why. What does a person kill another person
for, Tom Sawyer?-answer me that."
   "Why, he-er-"
   "Answer up! You ain't no fool. What does he kill him FOR?"
   "Well, sometimes it's for revenge, and-"
   "Wait.  One  thing at a time. Revenge, says you; and right you are. Now
who  ever  had  anything  agin  that  poor trifling no-account? Who do you
reckon would want to kill HIM?- that rabbit!"
   Tom  was stuck. I reckon he hadn't thought of a person having to have a
REASON  for  killing  a  person  before,  and now he sees it warn't likely
anybody  would  have  that  much  of  a grudge against a lamb like Jubiter
Dunlap. The blacksmith says, by and by:
   "The  revenge  idea  won't  work,  you  see.  Well,  then, what's next?
Robbery?  B'gosh,  that must 'a' been it, Tom! Yes, sirree, I reckon we've
struck it this time. Some feller wanted his gallus-buckles, and so he-"
   But  it  was so funny he busted out laughing, and just went on laughing
and  laughing  and  laughing till he was 'most dead, and Tom looked so put
out  and  cheap that I knowed he was ashamed he had come, and he wished he
hadn't.  But  old  Hooker  never  let  up on him. He raked up everything a
person  ever  could  want to kill another person about, and any fool could
see  they didn't any of them fit this case, and he just made no end of fun
of  the  whole  business and of the people that had been hunting the body;
and he said:
   "If  they'd  had  any  sense  they'd  'a' knowed the lazy cuss slid out
because  he  wanted  a  loafing  spell  after  all  this  work. He'll come
pottering  back  in  a  couple of weeks, and then how'll you fellers feel?
But,  laws  bless  you,  take the dog, and go and hunt his remainders. Do,
Tom."
   Then  he  busted out, and had another of them forty-rod laughs of hisn.
Tom  couldn't  back  down  after all this, so he said, "All right, unchain
him;"  and  the  blacksmith done it, and we started home and left that old
man laughing yet.
   It  was  a  lovely  dog.  There  ain't  any  dog  that's got a lovelier
disposition  than  a  bloodhound,  and this one knowed us and liked us. He
capered  and  raced  around ever so friendly, and powerful glad to be free
and  have a holiday; but Tom was so cut up he couldn't take any intrust in
him,  and  said he wished he'd stopped and thought a minute before he ever
started  on  such  a  fool  errand.  He  said  old  Jeff Hooker would tell
everybody, and we'd never hear the last of it.
   So  we  loafed  along home down the back lanes, feeling pretty glum and
not  talking.  When we was passing the far corner of our tobacker field we
heard the dog set up a long howl in there, and we went to the place and he
was  scratching  the  ground  with  all  his might, and every now and then
canting up his head sideways and fetching another howl.
   It  was  a long square, the shape of a grave; the rain had made it sink
down  and  show the shape. The minute we come and stood there we looked at
one  another  and  never said a word. When the dog had dug down only a few
inches  he  grabbed  something  and  pulled it up, and it was an arm and a
sleeve. Tom kind of gasped out, and says:
   "Come away, Huck-it's found."
   I  just  felt  awful.  We struck for the road and fetched the first men
that  come  along.  They got a spade at the crib and dug out the body, and
you  never  see  such an excitement. You couldn't make anything out of the
face, but you didn't need to. Everybody said:
   "Poor Jubiter; it's his clothes, to the last rag!"
   Some  rushed  off  to spread the news and tell the justice of the peace
and  have  an  inquest,  and me and Tom lit out for the house. Tom was all
afire  and  'most  out of breath when we come tearing in where Uncle Silas
and Aunt Sally and Benny was. Tom sung out:
   "Me  and  Huck's  found Jubiter Dunlap's corpse all by ourselves with a
bloodhound,  after everybody else had quit hunting and given it up; and if
it hadn't a been for us it never WOULD 'a' been found; and he WAS murdered
too-they  done  it  with  a  club or something like that; and I'm going to
start in and find the murderer, next, and I bet I'll do it!"
   Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  sprung up pale and astonished, but Uncle Silas
fell right forward out of his chair on to the floor and groans out:
   "Oh, my God, you've found him NOW!"


        Chapter X. THE ARREST OF UNCLE SILAS

   THEM  awful  words froze us solid. We couldn't move hand or foot for as
much  as half a minute. Then we kind of come to, and lifted the old man up
and  got him into his chair, and Benny petted him and kissed him and tried
to  comfort  him,  and  poor  old  Aunt Sally she done the same; but, poor
things,  they  was  so  broke up and scared and knocked out of their right
minds  that  they  didn't hardly know what they was about. With Tom it was
awful;  it  'most petrified him to think maybe he had got his uncle into a
thousand times more trouble than ever, and maybe it wouldn't ever happened
if he hadn't been so ambitious to get celebrated, and let the corpse alone
the  way the others done. But pretty