SO I started
for town in the wagon, and
when I was half-way
I see a wagon coming, and sure
enough it was Tom Sawyer, and
I stopped and waited till he
come
along. I says "Hold on!" and it stopped alongside, and his mouth opened up like
a trunk, and stayed so; and he swallowed two or three times like a person that's
got a dry throat, and then says:
"I hain't ever
done you no harm. You know
that. So, then,
what you want to come back and
ha'nt ME for?"
I says:
"I hain't come
back -- I hain't been GONE."
When he heard my voice it righted
him up some, but he warn't quite
satisfied yet. He says:
"Don't you
play nothing on me, because
I wouldn't on you.
Honest injun, you ain't a ghost?"
"Honest injun, I ain't," I
says.
"Well -- I
-- I -- well, that ought to
settle it, of course;
but I can't somehow seem to understand
it no way. Looky here, warn't
you ever murdered AT ALL?"
"No. I warn't
ever murdered at all -- I played
it on them.
You come in here and feel of
me if you don't believe me."
So he done it; and it satisfied
him; and he was that glad to
see me again he didn't know what
to do. And he wanted to know
all about it right off, because
it was a grand adventure, and
mysterious, and so it hit him
where he lived. But I said, leave
it alone till by and by; and
told his driver to wait, and
we drove off a little piece,
and I told him the kind of a
fix I was in, and what did he
reckon we better do? He said,
let him alone a minute, and don't
disturb him. So he thought and
thought, and pretty soon he says:
"It's all right;
I've got it. Take my trunk
in your wagon,
and let on it's your'n; and you
turn back and fool along slow,
so as to get to the house about
the time you ought to; and I'll
go towards town a piece, and
take a fresh start, and get there
a quarter or a half an hour after
you; and you needn't let on to
know me at first."
I says:
"All right;
but wait a minute. There's
one more thing -- a thing
that NOBODY don't know but me.
And that is, there's a nigger
here that I'm a-trying to steal
out of slavery, and his name
is JIM -- old Miss Watson's Jim."
He says:
" What ! Why,
Jim is --"
He stopped and went to studying.
I says:
"I know what
you'll say. You'll say it's
dirty, lowdown business;
but what if it is? I'm low down;
and I'm a-going to steal him,
and I want you keep mum and not
let on. Will you?"
His eye lit up, and he says:
"I'll HELP
you steal him!"
Well, I let go all holts then,
like I was shot. It was the most
astonishing speech I ever heard
-- and I'm bound to say Tom Sawyer
fell considerable in my estimation.
Only I couldn't believe it. Tom
Sawyer a NIGGER-STEALER!
"Oh, shucks!" I says; "you're
joking."
"I ain't joking,
either."
"Well, then," I says, "joking
or no joking, if you hear anything
said about a runaway nigger,
don't forget to remember that
YOU don't know nothing about
him, and I don't know nothing
about him."
Then we took the trunk and
put it in my wagon, and he drove
off his way and I drove mine.
But of course I forgot all about
driving slow on accounts of being
glad and full of thinking; so
I got home a heap too quick for
that length of a trip. The old
gentleman was at the door, and
he says:
"Why, this
is wonderful! Whoever would
a thought it was in that
mare to do it? I wish we'd a
timed her. And she hain't sweated
a hair -- not a hair. It's wonderful.
Why, I wouldn't take a hundred
dollars for that horse now --
I wouldn't, honest; and yet I'd
a sold her for fifteen before,
and thought 'twas all she was
worth."
That's all he said. He was
the innocentest, best old soul
I ever see. But it warn't surprising;
because he warn't only just a
farmer, he was a preacher, too,
and had a little one-horse log
church down back of the plantation,
which he built it himself at
his own expense, for a church
and schoolhouse, and never charged
nothing for his preaching, and
it was worth it, too. There was
plenty other farmer-preachers
like that, and done the same
way, down South.
In about half an hour Tom's
wagon drove up to the front stile,
and Aunt Sally she see it through
the window, because it was only
about fifty yards, and says:
"Why, there's somebody come!
I wonder who 'tis? Why, I do
believe it's a stranger. Jimmy " (that's
one of the children)' "run and
tell Lize to put on another plate
for dinner."
Everybody made a rush for the
front door, because, of course,
a stranger don't come EVERY year,
and so he lays over the yaller-fever,
for interest, when he does come.
Tom was over the stile and starting
for the house; the wagon was
spinning up the road for the
village, and we was all bunched
in the front door. Tom had his
store clothes on, and an audience
-- and that was always nuts for
Tom Sawyer. In them circumstances
it warn't no trouble to him to
throw in an amount of style that
was suitable. He warn't a boy
to meeky along up that yard like
a sheep; no, he come ca'm and
important, like the ram. When
he got a-front of us he lifts
his hat ever so gracious and
dainty, like it was the lid of
a box that had butterflies asleep
in it and he didn't want to disturb
them, and says:
"Mr. Archibald
Nichols, I presume?"
"No, my boy," says the old
gentleman, "I'm sorry to say
't your driver has deceived you;
Nichols's place is down a matter
of three mile more. Come in,
come in."
Tom he took
a look back over his shoulder,
and says, "Too
late -- he's out of sight."
"Yes, he's
gone, my son, and you must
come in and eat your
dinner with us; and then we'll
hitch up and take you down to
Nichols's."
"Oh, I CAN'T
make you so much trouble; I
couldn't think of
it. I'll walk -- I don't mind
the distance."
"But we won't
LET you walk -- it wouldn't
be Southern hospitality
to do it. Come right in."
"Oh, DO," says Aunt Sally; "it
ain't a bit of trouble to us,
not a bit in the world. You must
stay. It's a long, dusty three
mile, and we can't let you walk.
And, besides, I've already told
'em to put on another plate when
I see you coming; so you mustn't
disappoint us. Come right in
and make yourself at home."
So Tom he thanked them very
hearty and handsome, and let
himself be persuaded, and come
in; and when he was in he said
he was a stranger from Hicksville,
Ohio, and his name was William
Thompson -- and he made another
bow.
Well, he run on, and on, and
on, making up stuff about Hicksville
and everybody in it he could
invent, and I getting a little
nervious, and wondering how this
was going to help me out of my
scrape; and at last, still talking
along, he reached over and kissed
Aunt Sally right on the mouth,
and then settled back again in
his chair comfortable, and was
going on talking; but she jumped
up and wiped it off with the
back of her hand, and says:
"You owdacious
puppy!"
He looked kind of hurt, and
says:
"I'm surprised
at you, m'am."
"You're s'rp
-- Why, what do you reckon
I am? I've a good
notion to take and -- Say, what
do you mean by kissing me?"
He looked kind of humble, and
says:
"I didn't mean
nothing, m'am. I didn't mean
no harm. I -- I
-- thought you'd like it."
"Why, you born fool!" She took
up the spinning stick, and it
looked like it was all she could
do to keep from giving him a
crack with it. "What made you
think I'd like it?"
"Well, I don't
know. Only, they -- they --
told me you would."
"THEY told
you I would. Whoever told you's
ANOTHER lunatic. I
never heard the beat of it. Who's
THEY?"
"Why, everybody.
They all said so, m'am."
It was all she could do to
hold in; and her eyes snapped,
and her fingers worked like she
wanted to scratch him; and she
says:
"Who's 'everybody'?
Out with their names, or ther'll
be an
idiot short."
He got up and looked distressed,
and fumbled his hat, and says:
"I'm sorry,
and I warn't expecting it.
They told me to. They all
told me to. They all said, kiss
her; and said she'd like it.
They all said it -- every one
of them. But I'm sorry, m'am,
and I won't do it no more --
I won't, honest."
"You won't,
won't you? Well, I sh'd RECKON
you won't!"
"No'm, I'm
honest about it; I won't ever
do it again -- till
you ask me."
"Till I ASK
you! Well, I never see the
beat of it in my born
days! I lay you'll be the Methusalem-numskull
of creation before ever I ask
you -- or the likes of you."
"Well," he says, "it does surprise
me so. I can't make it out, somehow.
They said you would, and I thought
you would. But --" He stopped
and looked around slow, like
he wished he could run across
a friendly eye somewheres, and
fetched up on the old gentleman's,
and says, "Didn't YOU think she'd
like me to kiss her, sir?"
"Why, no; I
-- I -- well, no, I b'lieve
I didn't."
Then he looks on around the
same way to me, and says:
"Tom, didn't
YOU think Aunt Sally 'd open
out her arms and
say, 'Sid Sawyer --'"
"My land!" she says, breaking
in and jumping for him, "you
impudent young rascal, to fool
a body so --" and was going to
hug him, but he fended her off,
and says:
"No, not till
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:
"Why, dear
me, I never see such a surprise.
We warn't looking
for YOU at all, but only Tom.
Sis never wrote to me about anybody
coming but him."
"It's because it warn't INTENDED
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 first-rate surprise
for him to come here to the house
first, and for me to by and by
tag along and drop in, and let
on to be a stranger. But it was
a mistake, Aunt Sally. This ain't
no healthy place for a stranger
to come."
"No -- not
impudent whelps, Sid. You ought
to had your jaws
boxed; I hain't been so put out
since I don't know when. But
I don't care, I don't mind the
terms -- I'd be willing to stand
a thousand such jokes to have
you here. Well, to think of that
performance! I don't deny it,
I was most putrified with astonishment
when you give me that smack."
We had dinner out in that broad
open passage betwixt the house
and the kitchen; and there was
things enough on that table for
seven families -- and all hot,
too; none of your flabby, tough
meat that's laid in a cupboard
in a damp cellar all night and
tastes like a hunk of old cold
cannibal in the morning. Uncle
Silas he asked a pretty long
blessing over it, but it was
worth it; and it didn't cool
it a bit, neither, the way I've
seen them kind of interruptions
do lots of times. There was a
considerable good deal of talk
all the afternoon, and me and
Tom was on the lookout all the
time; but it warn't no use, they
didn't happen to say nothing
about any runaway nigger, and
we was afraid to try to work
up to it. But at supper, at night,
one of the little boys says:
"Pa, mayn't
Tom and Sid and me go to the
show?"
"No," says the old man, "I
reckon there ain't going to be
any; and you couldn't go if there
was; because the runaway nigger
told Burton and me all about
that scandalous show, and Burton
said he would tell the people;
so I reckon they've drove the
owdacious loafers out of town
before this time."
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 bid good-night
and went up to bed right after
supper, and clumb out of the
window and down the lightning-rod,
and shoved for the town; for
I didn't believe anybody was
going to give the king and the
duke a hint, and so if I didn't
hurry up and give them one they'd
get into trouble sure.
On the road Tom he told me
all about how it was reckoned
I was murdered, and how pap disappeared
pretty soon, and didn't come
back no more, and what a stir
there was when Jim run away;
and I told Tom all about our
Royal Nonesuch rapscallions,
and as much of the raft voyage
as I had time to; and as we struck
into the town and up through
the -- here comes a raging rush
of people with torches, and an
awful whooping and yelling, 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 astraddle of a rail
-- that is, I knowed it WAS the
king and the duke, though they
was all over tar and feathers,
and didn't look like nothing
in the world that was human --
just looked like a couple of
monstrous big soldier-plumes.
Well, it made me sick to see
it; and I was sorry for them
poor pitiful rascals, it seemed
like I couldn't ever feel any
hardness against them any more
in the world. It was a dreadful
thing to see. Human beings CAN
be awful cruel to one another.
We see we was too late -- couldn't
do no good. We asked some stragglers
about it, and they said everybody
went to the show looking very
innocent; and laid low and kept
dark till the poor old king was
in the middle of his cavortings
on the stage; then somebody give
a signal, and the house rose
up and went for them.
So we poked along back home,
and I warn't feeling so brash
as I was before, but kind of
ornery, and humble, and to blame,
somehow -- though I hadn't done
nothing. But that's always the
way; it don't make no difference
whether you do right or wrong,
a person's conscience ain't got
no sense, and just goes for him
anyway. If I had a yaller dog
that didn't know no more than
a person's conscience does I
would pison him. It takes up
more room than all the rest of
a person's insides, and yet ain't
no good, nohow. Tom Sawyer he
says the same.
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