Please note - this is a slight rewrite of a classic public domain work by an author much better than me...before you throw any stones, please wait and read the next part (number 49). Please enjoy it for what it is...!
Tom "meow'd" with caution once or twice, as he went; then jumped to the roof of the woodshed and thence to the ground. Huckleberry Finn was there, with his dead cat. The boys moved off and disappeared in the gloom. At the end of half an hour they were wading through the tall grass of the graveyard.
A faint wind moaned through the trees, and Tom feared it might be the spirits of the dead, complaining at being disturbed. The boys talked little, and only under their breath, for the time and the place and the pervading solemnity and silence oppressed their spirits. They found the sharp new heap they were seeking, and ensconced themselves within the protection of three great elms that grew in a bunch within a few feet of the grave.
"Hucky, do you believe the dead people like it for us to be here?"
Huckleberry whispered, "I wisht I knowed. It's awful solemn like, ain't it?"
"I bet it is."
There was a considerable pause, while the boys canvassed this matter inwardly. Then Tom whispered,"Say, Hucky -- do you reckon Hoss Williams hears us talking?"
"O' course he does. Least his sperrit does."
"I wish I'd said Mister Williams. But I never meant any harm. Everybody calls him Hoss."
"A body can't be too partic'lar how they talk 'bout these-yer dead people, Tom."
Presently Tom seized his comrade's arm and said,"Sh!"
"What is it, Tom?" And the two clung together with beating hearts.
"Sh! There 'tis again! Didn't you hear it?"
"Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?"
"Oh, don't be afeard. I don't believe they'll bother us. We ain't doing any harm. If we keep perfectly still, maybe they won't notice us at all."
"I'll try to, Tom, but, Lord, I'm all of a shiver."
"Listen!"
The boys bent their heads together and scarcely breathed. A muffled sound of voices floated up from the far end of the graveyard.
"Look! See there!" whispered Tom. "What is it?"
"It's devil-fire. Oh, Tom, this is awful."
Some vague figures approached through the gloom, swinging an old-fashioned tin lantern that freckled the ground with innumerable little spangles of light. Presently Huckleberry whispered with a shudder,"It's the devils sure enough. Three of 'em! Lordy, Tom, we're goners! Can you pray?"
"I'll try, but don't you be afeard. They ain't going to hurt us. 'Now I lay me down to sleep, I --'"
"Sh!"
"What is it, Huck?"
"They're humans! One of 'em is, anyway. One of 'em's old Muff Potter's voice."
"No -- 'tain't so, is it?"
"I bet I know it. Don't you stir nor budge. He ain't sharp enough to notice us. Drunk, the same as usual, likely -- blamed old rip!"
"All right, I'll keep still. Now they're stuck. Can't find it. Here they come again. Now they're hot. Cold again. Hot again. Red hot! They're p'inted right, this time. Say, Huck, I know another o' them voices; it's Injun Joe."
"Here it is," said the third voice; and the owner of it held the lantern up and revealed the face of young Doctor Robinson.
Potter and Injun Joe were carrying a handbarrow with a rope and a couple of shovels on it. They cast down their load and began to open the grave. The doctor put the lantern at the head of the grave and came and sat down with his back against one of the elm trees. He was so close the boys could have touched him.
"Hurry, men!" he said, in a low voice; "the moon might come out at any moment."
They growled a response and went on digging. For some time there was no noise but the grating sound of the spades discharging their freight of mould and gravel. It was very monotonous. Finally a spade struck upon the coffin with a dull woody accent, and within another minute or two the men had hoisted it out on the ground. They pried off the lid with their shovels, got out the body and dumped it rudely on the ground.
Potter took out a large spring-knife and cut off the dangling end of the rope and then said,"Now the cussed thing's ready, Sawbones, and you'll just out with another five, or here she stays."
"That's the talk!" said Injun Joe.
"Look here, what does this mean?" said the doctor. "You required your pay in advance, and I've paid you."
"Yes, and you done more than that," said Injun Joe, approaching the doctor, who was now standing. "Five years ago you drove me away from your father's kitchen one night, when I come to ask for something to eat, and you said I warn't there for any good. Did you think I'd forget?"
He was threatening the doctor, with his fist in his face, by this time. The doctor struck out suddenly and stretched the ruffian on the ground. Potter dropped his knife, and exclaimed,"Here, now, don't you hit my pard!" and the next moment he had grappled with the doctor and the two were struggling with might and main.
Injun Joe sprang to his feet, his eyes flaming with passion, snatched up Potter's knife, and went creeping, catlike and stooping, round and round about the combatants, seeking an opportunity. All at once the doctor flung himself free, seized the heavy headboard of Williams' grave and felled Potter to the earth with it -- and in the same instant the Indian saw his chance and drove the knife to the hilt in the young man's breast. He reeled and fell partly upon Potter, flooding him with his blood.
Injun Joe muttered,"That score is settled -- _d_a_m_n_ you." Then he robbed the body. After which he put the fatal knife in Potter's open right hand, and sat down on the dismantled coffin. Three -- four -- five minutes passed, and then Potter began to stir and moan.
"What did you do it for?"
"I! I never done it!" Potter was confused.
"Look here! That kind of talk won't wash."
Potter trembled and grew white. "I thought I'd got sober. I'd no business to drink to-night. But it's in my head yet -- tell me, Joe -- honest, now, old feller -- did I do it? Joe, I never meant to -- 'pon my soul and honor, I never meant to."
"Why, you two was scuffling, and he fetched you one with the headboard and you fell flat; and then up you come, all reeling and staggering like, and snatched the knife and jammed it into him, just as he fetched you another awful clip -- and here you've laid, as dead as a wedge til now."
"Oh, I didn't know what I was a-doing. I wish I may die this minute if I did. It was all on account of the whiskey and the excitement, I reckon. I never used a weepon in my life before, Joe. I've fought, but never with weepons. They'll all say that. Joe, don't tell! Say you won't tell, Joe --?"
"No, you've always been fair and square with me, Muff Potter, and I won't go back on you. There, now, that's as fair as a man can say."
"Oh, Joe, you're an angel. I'll bless you for this the longest day I live." And Potter began to cry.
"Come, now, that's enough of that. This ain't any time for blubbering. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you."
Two or three minutes later the murdered man, the blanketed corpse, the lidless coffin, and the open grave were under no inspection but the moon's. The stillness was complete again, too.
The two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark, toward the village, speechless with horror. They glanced backward over their shoulders from time to time, apprehensively, as if they feared they might be followed.
"If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom.
Huckleberry's hard pantings were his only reply, and the boys fixed their eyes on the goal of their hopes and bent to their work to win it. They gained steadily on it, and at last, breast to breast, they burst through the open door and fell grateful and exhausted in the sheltering shadows beyond.
By and by their pulses slowed down, and Tom whispered,"Huckleberry, what do you reckon'll come of this?"
"If Doctor Robinson dies, I reckon hanging'll come of it."
"Do you though?"
"Why, I know it, Tom."
After a reflective silence, Tom said:
"Hucky, can you keep mum?"
"Tom, we got to keep mum. You know that. That Injun devil wouldn't make any more of drownding us than a couple of cats, if we was to squeak 'bout this and they didn't hang him. Now, look-a-here, Tom, less take and swear to one another -- that's what we got to do -- swear to keep mum."
"I'm agreed. It's the best thing. Would you just hold hands and swear that we --"
"Oh no, that wouldn't do for this. That's good enough for little rubbishy common things -- specially with gals, cuz they go back on you anyway, and blab if they get in a huff -- but there orter be writing 'bout a big thing like this. And blood."
Tom's whole being applauded this idea. It was deep, and dark, and awful; the hour, the circumstances, the surroundings, were in keeping with it. He picked up a clean pine shingle that lay in the moonlight, took a little fragment of "red keel" out of his pocket, got the moon on his work, and painfully scrawled these lines, emphasizing each slow down-stroke by clamping his tongue between his teeth, and letting up the pressure on the up-strokes.
"Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer swears they will keep mum about This and They wish They may Drop down dead in Their Tracks if They ever Tell and Rot."
"Tom," whispered Huckleberry, "does this keep us from ever telling -- always?"
"Of course it does. It don't make any difference what happens, we got to keep mum."
They continued to whisper, then they separated, cogitating. When Tom crept in at his bedroom window the night was almost spent. He undressed with excessive caution, and fell asleep congratulating himself that nobody knew of his escapade. He was not aware that the gently-snoring Sid was awake, and had been so for an hour. In the morning Aunt Polly would also know.
After breakfast Aunt Polly him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged.
Spank! Spank! Spank!
Aunt Polly did quite a job reddening her nephew's backside.
Spank! Spank! Spank!
Tom squirmed and tried to maintain composure.
Spank! Spank! Spank!
But his aunt had quite the experience with this naughty boy's little rump.
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
"Ooooh! Aunt Polly!
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
"No more than you deserive," she said.
Spank! Spank! Spank!
"Why do you insist on breaking my old heart...?" she asked, through tears of pain.
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
"Ooooh! Oooooh! I'm sorry! Oooooh!!'
Spank! Spank!
"If you want to go on and ruin yourself..."
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
"...and bring gray hairs with sorry to the grave..."
Spank! Spank! Spank!
"Ooooooooh! Nooooo!!"
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
"...then go on and do it."
Spank! Spank! Spank!
"Oooooh!! Hooooo! Hoooooo!"
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
"I will have no more use for you anymore."
Spank! Spank!
Hearing those words was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. When she was done, he cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform and be more honest, and then received his dismissal.
He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid. He moped to school gloomy and sad. Shortly Tom came upon Huck, the juvenile pariah of the village.
Somberly, Tom hailed the romantic outcast, "Hello, Huckleberry!"
"Hello yourself, and see how you like it."
Tom pulled his pal aside, and quietly asked, "Hucky, have you told anybody about -- that?"
"Oh -- 'course I haven't. Who would I tell?"
"I don't know. I was afeard."
"Why, Tom Sawyer, we wouldn't be alive two days if that got found out. You know that."
Tom felt more comfortable. After a pause, "Huck, they couldn't anybody get you to tell, could they?"
"Get me to tell? Why, if I wanted that devil to drownd me they could get me to tell. They ain't no different way."
"Well, that's all right, then. I reckon we're safe as long as we keep mum."
"I reckon."
"What is the talk around, Huck? I've heard a power of it."
"Talk? Well, it's just Muff Potter, Muff Potter, Muff Potter all the time. It keeps me in a sweat, constant, so's I want to hide som'ers."
"That's just the same way they go on round me. I reckon he's a goner. Don't you feel sorry for him, sometimes?"
"Most always -- most always. He ain't no account; but then he hain't ever done anything to hurt anybody. Just fishes a little, to get money to get drunk on -- and loafs around considerable; but lord, we all do that -- leastways most of us -- preachers and such like. But he's kind of good."
The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing, lulled by the drowsy hum of study. The interruption roused him.
"Thomas Sawyer!"
Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble. "Sir!"
"Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?"
"I stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn!"
The master's pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said, "You -- you did what?"
"Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn." He had promised his aunt he would be more honest, after all.
There was no mistaking the words.
"Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding confession I have ever listened to. No mere ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket and remove your slacks."
Determined to not let the master get the better of him in front of his peers, Tom did as he was told and flung off his jacket and trousers and bent over bare bottomed the teacher's desk to the great amazement of his classmate.
"If I didn't know better, I would say you were looking forward to this?" the teacher said, to a smattering of chuckles from the class. Sadly, as he looked around, the master realized he had not replentished the stock of switches from an early hiding. Thankfully Tom's cousin, Sid Sawyer, offered him a sturdy ruler that did the job just fine on Tom's exposed fleshy parts.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Tom squirmed, but he kept his mouth shut.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
This did not sit will with the master, who so enjoyed listening to the crying and whimpering of his young boys.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
With each spank on his naked bottom, Tom found it more and more difficult to keep his composure.
Whack! Whack!
"Ohhh, sir...!" Tom finally said out loud, to everyone's great amusement.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!
"This will warm you up, but good, Thomas!"
Whack! Whack! Whack!
It was no use any more trying to hold it in.
Whack! Whack! Whack!! Whack!!
Tom had to cry.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
He was grateful Hucky wasn't there to witness such a horrid specticle.
Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!!
_d_a_m_n_ that Sid for giving teacher the ruler! Tom thought
Whack! Whack! Whack!!
When the spanking was completed, Tom put on his clothes. He looked at his smiling classmates and cursed them all - in his mind. He then betook himself ever so carefully to his seat, rested his elbows on his desk and his jaws in his hands, and stared at the wall with the stony stare of suffering that has reached the limit and can no further go.
As Muff's court date appeared close, Tom and Huck found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards.
"You've been mighty good to me, boys -- better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't."
When the trial arrived, all the village flocked to the court-house for this was to be the great day. The first witness was called who testified that he found Muff Potter washing in the brook, at an early hour of the morning that the murder was discovered, and that he immediately sneaked away. Several more witnesses deposed concerning Potter's guilty behavior when brought to the scene of the murder. They were allowed to leave the stand without being cross-questioned. Tom couldn't stand it anymore.
Counsel for the defence rose and said, "Your honor, in our remarks at the opening of this trial, we foreshadowed our purpose to prove that our client did this fearful deed while under the influence of a blind and irresponsible delirium produced by drink. We have changed our mind. We shall not offer that plea." [Then to the clerk:] "Call Thomas Sawyer!"
A puzzled amazement awoke in every face in the house, not even excepting Potter's.
"Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?"
Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face. "In the graveyard."
"Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?"
"Yes, sir. Near as I am to you."
"Were you hidden, or not?"
"I was hid."
"Where?"
"Behind the elms that's on the edge of the grave."
"Can you tell us what you saw?"
Tom began -- hesitatingly at first, but as he warmed to his subject his words flowed more and more easily; in a little while every sound ceased but his own voice; every eye fixed itself upon him; with parted lips and bated breath the audience hung upon his words, taking no note of time, rapt in the ghastly fascinations of the tale. The strain upon pent emotion reached its climax when the boy said:
"-- and as the doctor fetched the board around and Muff Potter fell, Injun Joe jumped with the knife and --"
Crash! Quick as lightning Injun Joe sprang for a window from the court room, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone!
Tom was a glittering hero once more -- the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His days were days of splendor and exultation to him, but his nights were seasons of horror. Injun Joe infested all his dreams, and always with doom in his eye.
Poor Huck was still in the same state of wretchedness and terror, for Tom had told the whole story to the lawyer the night before the great day of the trial, and Huck was sore afraid that his share in the business might leak out, yet, notwithstanding Injun Joe's flight had saved him the suffering of testifying in court. The poor fellow had got the attorney to promise secrecy, but what of that? Since Tom's harassed conscience had managed to drive him to the lawyer's house by night and wring a dread tale from lips that had been sealed with the dismalest and most formidable of oaths, Huck's confidence in the human race was well-nigh obliterated.
And for that, Huck would make Tom pay...!