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"What
makes the candle blow so?" said Aunt Polly. Tom hurried up.
"Why, that door's open, I believe. Why, of course it is. No end of
strange things now. Go 'long and shut it, Sid."
Tom
disappeared under the bed just in time. He lay and "breathed"
himself for a time, and then crept to where he could almost touch his
aunt's foot.
"But
as I was saying," said Aunt Polly, "he warn't BAD, so to say --
only mischEEvous. Only just giddy, and harum-scarum, you know. He warn't
any more responsible than a colt. HE never meant any harm, and he was the
best-hearted boy that ever was" -- and she began to cry.
"It
was just so with my Joe -- always full of his devilment, and up to every
kind of mischief, but he was just as unselfish and kind as he could be --
and laws bless me, to think I went and whipped him for taking that cream,
never once recollecting that I throwed it out myself because it was sour,
and I never to see him again in this world, never, never, never, poor
abused boy!" And Mrs. Harper sobbed as if her heart would break.
"I
hope Tom's better off where he is," said Sid, "but if he'd been
better in some ways --"
"SID!"
Tom felt the glare of the old lady's eye, though he could not see it.
"Not a word against my Tom, now that he's gone! God'll take care of
HIM -- never you trouble YOURself, sir! Oh, Mrs. Harper, I don't know how
to give him up! I don't know how to give him up! He was such a comfort to
me, although he tormented my old heart out of me, 'most."
"The
Lord giveth and the Lord hath taken away -- Blessed be the name of the
Lord! But it's so hard -- Oh, it's so hard! Only last Saturday my Joe
busted a firecracker right under my nose and I knocked him sprawling.
Little did I know then, how soon -- Oh, if it was to do over again I'd hug
him and bless him for it."
"Yes,
yes, yes, I know just how you feel, Mrs. Harper, I know just exactly how
you feel. No longer ago than yesterday noon, my Tom took and filled the
cat full of Pain-killer, and I did think the cretur would tear the house
down. And God forgive me, I cracked Tom's head with my thimble, poor boy,
poor dead boy. But he's out of all his troubles now. And the last words I
ever heard him say was to reproach --"
But
this memory was too much for the old lady, and she broke entirely down.
Tom was snuffling, now, himself -- and more in pity of himself than
anybody else. He could hear Mary crying, and putting in a kindly word for
him from time to time. He began to have a nobler opinion of himself than
ever before. Still, he was sufficiently touched by his aunt's grief to
long to rush out from under the bed and overwhelm her with joy -- and the
theatrical gorgeousness of the thing appealed strongly to his nature, too,
but he resisted and lay still.
He
went on listening, and gathered by odds and ends that it was conjectured
at first that the boys had got drowned while taking a swim; then the small
raft had been missed; next, certain boys said the missing lads had
promised that the village should "hear something" soon; the
wise-heads had "put this and that together" and decided that the
lads had gone off on that raft and would turn up at the next town below,
presently; but toward noon the raft had been found, lodged against the
Missouri shore some five or six miles below the village -- and then hope
perished; they must be drowned, else hunger would have driven them home by
nightfall if not sooner. It was believed that the search for the bodies
had been a fruitless effort merely because the drowning must have occurred
in midchannel, since the boys, being good swimmers, would otherwise have
escaped to shore. This was Wednesday night. If the bodies continued
missing until Sunday, all hope would be given over, and the funerals would
be preached on that morning. Tom shuddered.
Mrs.
Harper gave a sobbing good-night and turned to go. Then with a mutual
impulse the two bereaved women flung themselves into each other's arms and
had a good, consoling cry, and then parted. Aunt Polly was tender far
beyond her wont, in her good-night to Sid and Mary. Sid snuffled a bit and
Mary went off crying with all her heart.
Aunt
Polly knelt down and prayed for Tom so touchingly, so appealingly, and
with such measureless love in her words and her old trembling voice, that
he was weltering in tears again, long before she was through.
He
had to keep still long after she went to bed, for she kept making
broken-hearted ejaculations from time to time, tossing unrestfully, and
turning over. But at last she was still, only moaning a little in her
sleep. Now the boy stole out, rose gradually by the bedside, shaded the
candle-light with his hand, and stood regarding her. His heart was full of
pity for her. He took out his sycamore scroll and placed it by the candle.
But something occurred to him, and he lingered considering. His face
lighted with a happy solution of his thought; he put the bark hastily in
his pocket. Then he bent over and kissed the faded lips, and straightway
made his stealthy exit, latching the door behind him.
He
threaded his way back to the ferry landing, found nobody at large there,
and walked boldly on board the boat, for he knew she was tenantless except
that there was a watchman, who always turned in and slept like a graven
image. He untied the skiff at the stern, slipped into it, and was soon
rowing cautiously upstream. When he had pulled a mile above the village,
he started quartering across and bent himself stoutly to his work. He hit
the landing on the other side neatly, for this was a familiar bit of work
to him. He was moved to capture the skiff, arguing that it might be
considered a ship and therefore legitimate prey for a pirate, but he knew
a thorough search would be made for it and that might end in revelations.
So he stepped ashore and entered the woods.
He
sat down and took a long rest, torturing himself meanwhile to keep awake,
and then started warily down the home-stretch. The night was far spent. It
was broad daylight before he found himself fairly abreast the island bar.
He rested again until the sun was well up and gilding the great river with
its splendor, and then he plunged into the stream. A little later he
paused, dripping, upon the threshold of the camp, and heard Joe say:
"No,
Tom's true-blue, Huck, and he'll come back. He won't desert. He knows that
would be a disgrace to a pirate, and Tom's too proud for that sort of
thing. He's up to something or other. Now I wonder what?"
"Well,
the things is ours, anyway, ain't they?"
Pretty
near, but not yet, Huck. The writing says they are if he ain't back here
to breakfast."
"Which
he is!" exclaimed Tom, with fine dramatic effect, stepping grandly
into camp.
A
sumptuous breakfast of bacon and fish was shortly provided, and as the
boys set to work upon it, Tom recounted (and adorned) his adventures. They
were a vain and boastful company of heroes when the tale was done. Then
Tom hid himself away in a shady nook to sleep till noon, and the other
pirates got ready to fish and explore.
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