Music—The Challenge—A Private Entrance
CHAPTER II. Strong Temptations—Strategic Movements—The Innocents
Beguiled
CHAPTER III. Tom as a General—Triumph and Reward—Dismal
Felicity—Commission and Omission
CHAPTER IV. Mental Acrobatics—Attending Sunday—School—The
Superintendent—“Showing off”—Tom Lionized
CHAPTER V. A Useful Minister—In Church—The Climax
CHAPTER VI. Self-Examination—Dentistry—The Midnight Charm—Witches and
Devils—Cautious Approaches—Happy Hours
CHAPTER VII. A Treaty Entered Into—Early Lessons—A Mistake Made
CHAPTER VIII. Tom Decides on his Course—Old Scenes Re-enacted
CHAPTER IX. A Solemn Situation—Grave Subjects Introduced—Injun Joe
Explains
CHAPTER X. The Solemn Oath—Terror Brings Repentance—Mental Punishment
CHAPTER XI. Muff Potter Comes Himself—Tom’s Conscience at Work
CHAPTER XII. Tom Shows his Generosity—Aunt Polly Weakens
CHAPTER XIII. The Young Pirates—Going to the Rendezvous—The Camp—Fire
Talk
CHAPTER XIV. Camp-Life—A Sensation—Tom Steals Away from Camp
CHAPTER XV. Tom Reconnoiters—Learns the Situation—Reports at Camp
CHAPTER XVI. A Day’s Amusements—Tom Reveals a Secret—The Pirates take a
Lesson—A Night Surprise—An Indian War
CHAPTER XVII. Memories of the Lost Heroes—The Point in Tom’s Secret
CHAPTER XVIII. Tom’s Feelings Investigated—Wonderful Dream—Becky
Thatcher Overshadowed—Tom Becomes Jealous—Black Revenge
CHAPTER XIX. Tom Tells the Truth
CHAPTER XX. Becky in a Dilemma—Tom’s Nobility Asserts Itself
CHAPTER XXI. Youthful Eloquence—Compositions by the Young Ladies—A
Lengthy Vision—The Boy’s Vengeance Satisfied
CHAPTER XXII. Tom’s Confidence Betrayed—Expects Signal Punishment
CHAPTER XXIII. Old Muff’s Friends—Muff Potter in Court—Muff Potter
Saved
CHAPTER XXIV. Tom as the Village Hero—Days of Splendor and Nights of
Horror—Pursuit of Injun Joe
CHAPTER XXV. About Kings and Diamonds—Search for the Treasure—Dead
People and Ghosts
CHAPTER XXVI. The Haunted House—Sleepy Ghosts—A Box of Gold—Bitter Luck
CHAPTER XXVII. Doubts to be Settled—The Young Detectives
CHAPTER XXVIII. An Attempt at No. Two—Huck Mounts Guard
CHAPTER XXIX. The Pic-nic—Huck on Injun Joe’s Track—The “Revenge”
Job—Aid for the Widow
CHAPTER XXX. The Welshman Reports—Huck Under Fire—The Story Circulated
—A New Sensation—Hope Giving Way to Despair
CHAPTER XXXI. An Exploring Expedition—Trouble Commences—Lost in the
Cave—Total Darkness—Found but not Saved
CHAPTER XXXII. Tom tells the Story of their Escape—Tom’s Enemy in Safe
Quarters
CHAPTER XXXIII. The Fate of Injun Joe—Huck and Tom Compare Notes
—An Expedition to the Cave—Protection Against Ghosts—“An Awful Snug
Place”—A Reception at the Widow Douglas’s
CHAPTER XXXIV. Springing a Secret—Mr. Jones’ Surprise a Failure
CHAPTER XXXV. A New Order of Things—Poor Huck—New Adventures Planned
ILLUSTRATIONS
Tom Sawyer
Tom at Home
Aunt Polly Beguiled
A Good Opportunity
Who’s Afraid
Late Home
Jim
’Tendin’ to Business
Ain’t that Work?
Cat and Toys
Amusement
Becky Thatcher
Paying Off
After the Battle
“Showing Off”
Not Amiss
Mary
Tom Contemplating
Dampened Ardor
Youth
Boyhood
Using the “Barlow”
The Church
Necessities
Tom as a Sunday-School Hero
The Prize
At Church
The Model Boy
The Church Choir
A Side Show
Result of Playing in Church
The Pinch-Bug
Sid
Dentistry
Huckleberry Finn
Mother Hopkins
Result of Tom’s Truthfulness
Tom as an Artist
Interrupted Courtship
The Master
Vain Pleading
Tail Piece
The Grave in the Woods
Tom Meditates
Robin Hood and his Foe
Death of Robin Hood
Midnight
Tom’s Mode of Egress
Tom’s Effort at Prayer
Muff Potter Outwitted
The Graveyard
Forewarnings
Disturbing Muff’s Sleep
Tom’s Talk with his Aunt
Muff Potter
A Suspicious Incident
Injun Joe’s two Victims
In the Coils
Peter
Aunt Polly seeks Information
A General Good Time
Demoralized
Joe Harper
On Board Their First Prize
The Pirates Ashore
Wild Life
The Pirate’s Bath
The Pleasant Stroll
The Search for the Drowned
The Mysterious Writing
River View
What Tom Saw
Tom Swims the River
Taking Lessons
The Pirates’ Egg Market
Tom Looking for Joe’s Knife
The Thunder Storm
Terrible Slaughter
The Mourner
Tom’s Proudest Moment
Amy Lawrence
Tom tries to Remember
The Hero
A Flirtation
Becky Retaliates
A Sudden Frost
Counter-irritation
Aunt Polly
Tom justified
The Discovery
Caught in the Act
Tom Astonishes the School
Literature
Tom Declaims
Examination Evening
On Exhibition
Prize Authors
The Master’s Dilemma
The School House
The Cadet
Happy for Two Days
Enjoying the Vacation
The Stolen Melons
The Judge
Visiting the Prisoner
Tom Swears
The Court Room
The Detective
Tom Dreams
The Treasure
The Private Conference
A King; Poor Fellow!
Business
The Ha’nted House
Injun Joe
The Greatest and Best
Hidden Treasures Unearthed
The Boy’s Salvation
Room No. 2
The Next Day’s Conference
Treasures
Uncle Jake
Buck at Home
The Haunted Room
“Run for Your Life”
McDougal’s Cave
Inside the Cave
Huck on Duty
A Rousing Act
Tail Piece
The Welshman
Result of a Sneeze
Cornered
Alarming Discoveries
Tom and Becky stir up the Town
Tom’s Marks
Huck Questions the Widow
Vampires
Wonders of the Cave
Attacked by Natives
Despair
The Wedding Cake
A New Terror
Daylight
“Turn Out” to Receive Tom and Becky
The Escape from the Cave
Fate of the Ragged Man
The Treasures Found
Caught at Last
Drop after Drop
Having a Good Time
A Business Trip
“Got it at Last!”
Tail Piece
Widow Douglas
Tom Backs his Statement
Tail Piece
Huck Transformed
Comfortable Once More
High up in Society
Contentment
PREFACE
Most of the adventures recorded in this book really occurred; one or two
were experiences of my own, the rest those of boys who were schoolmates
of mine. Huck Finn is drawn from life; Tom Sawyer also, but not from an
individual—he is a combination of the characteristics of three boys whom
I knew, and therefore belongs to the composite order of architecture.
The odd superstitions touched upon were all prevalent among children and
slaves in the West at the period of this story—that is to say, thirty or
forty years ago.
Although my book is intended mainly for the entertainment of boys and
girls, I hope it will not be shunned by men and women on that account,
for part of my plan has been to try to pleasantly remind adults of what
they once were themselves, and of how they felt and thought and talked,
and what queer enterprises they sometimes engaged in.
THE AUTHOR.
HARTFORD, 1876.
CHAPTER I
“Tom!”
No answer.
“TOM!”
No answer.
“What’s gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!”
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the
room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or
never looked _through_ them for so small a thing as a boy; they were
her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for “style,” not
service—she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well.
She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but
still loud enough for the furniture to hear:
“Well, I lay if I get hold of you I’ll—”
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching
under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the
punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.
“I never did see the beat of that boy!”
She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the
tomato vines and “jimpson” weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So
she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted:
“Y-o-u-u TOM!”
There was a slight noise behind her and she turned just in time to seize
a small boy by the slack of his roundabout and arrest his flight.
“There! I might ’a’ thought of that closet. What you been doing in
there?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What _is_ that
truck?”
“I don’t know, aunt.”
“Well, I know. It’s jam—that’s what it is. Forty times I’ve said if you
didn’t let that jam alone I’d skin you. Hand me that switch.”
The switch hovered in the air—the peril was desperate—
“My! Look behind you, aunt!”
The old lady whirled round, and snatched her skirts out of danger.
The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the high board-fence, and
disappeared over it.
His aunt Polly stood surprised a moment, and then broke into a gentle
laugh.
“Hang the boy, can’t I never learn anything? Ain’t he played me tricks
enough like that for me to be looking out for him by this time? But old
fools is the biggest fools there is. Can’t learn an old dog new tricks,
as the saying is. But my goodness, he never plays them alike, two days,
and how is a body to know what’s coming? He ’pears to know just how long
he can torment me before I get my dander up, and he knows if he can make
out to put me off for a minute or make me laugh, it’s all down again and
I can’t hit him a lick. I ain’t doing my duty by that boy, and that’s
the Lord’s truth, goodness knows. Spare the rod and spile the child, as
the Good Book says. I’m a laying up sin and suffering for us both, I
know. He’s full of the Old Scratch, but laws-a-me! he’s my own dead
sister’s boy, poor thing, and I ain’t got the heart to lash him,
somehow. Every time I let him off, my conscience does hurt me so, and
every time I hit him my old heart most breaks. Well-a-well, man that is
born of woman is of few days and full of trouble, as the Scripture says,
and I reckon it’s so. He’ll play hookey this evening,[*] and I’ll just
be obleeged to make him work, tomorrow, to punish him. It’s mighty hard
to make him work Saturdays, when all the boys is having holiday, but he
hates work more than he hates anything else, and I’ve _got_ to do some
of my duty by him, or I’ll be the ruination of the child.”
[*] Southwestern for “afternoon”
Tom did play hookey, and he had a very good time. He got back home
barely in season to help Jim, the small colored boy, saw next-day’s wood
and split the kindlings before supper—at least he was there in time
to tell his adventures to Jim while Jim did three-fourths of the work.
Tom’s younger brother (or rather half-brother) Sid was already through
with his part of the work (picking up chips), for he was a quiet boy,
and had no adventurous, trouble-some ways.
While Tom was eating his supper, and stealing sugar as opportunity
offered, Aunt Polly asked him questions that were full of guile, and
very deep—for she wanted to trap him into damaging revealments. Like
many other simple-hearted souls, it was her pet vanity to believe she
was endowed with a talent for dark and mysterious diplomacy, and she
loved to contemplate her most transparent devices as marvels of low
cunning. Said she:
“Tom, it was middling warm in school, warn’t it?”
“Yes’m.”
“Powerful warm, warn’t it?”
“Yes’m.”
“Didn’t you want to go in a-swimming, Tom?”
A bit of a scare shot through Tom—a touch of uncomfortable suspicion. He
searched Aunt Polly’s face, but it told him nothing. So he said:
“No’m—well, not very much.”
The old lady reached out her hand and felt Tom’s shirt, and said:
“But you ain’t too warm now, though.” And it flattered her to reflect
that she had discovered that the shirt was dry without anybody knowing
that that was what she had in her mind. But in spite of her, Tom knew
where the wind lay, now. So he forestalled what might be the next move:
“Some of us pumped on our heads—mine’s damp yet. See?”
Aunt Polly was vexed to think she had overlooked that bit of
circumstantial evidence, and missed a trick. Then she had a new
inspiration:
“Tom, you didn’t have to undo your shirt collar where I sewed it, to
pump on your head, did you? Unbutton your jacket!”
The trouble vanished out of Tom’s face. He opened his jacket. His shirt
collar was securely sewed.
“Bother! Well, go ’long with you. I’d made sure you’d played hookey
and been a-swimming. But I forgive ye, Tom. I reckon you’re a kind of a
singed cat, as the saying is—better’n you look. _This_ time.”
She was half sorry her sagacity had miscarried, and half glad that Tom
had stumbled into obedient conduct for once.
But Sidney said:
“Well, now, if I didn’t think you sewed his collar with white thread,
but it’s black.”
“Why, I did sew it with white! Tom!”
But Tom did not wait for the rest. As he went out at the door he said:
“Siddy, I’ll lick you for that.”
In a safe place Tom examined two large needles which were thrust into
the lapels of his jacket, and had thread bound about them—one needle
carried white thread and the other black. He said:
“She’d never noticed if it hadn’t been for Sid. Confound it! sometimes
she sews it with white, and sometimes she sews it with black. I wish to
gee-miny she’d stick to one or t’other—I can’t keep the run of ’em. But
I bet you I’ll lam Sid for that. I’ll learn him!”
He was not the Model Boy of the village. He knew the model boy very well
though—and loathed him.
Within two minutes, or even less, he had forgotten all his troubles. Not
because his troubles were one whit less heavy and bitter to him than a
man’s are to a man, but because a new and powerful interest bore
them down and drove them out of his mind for the time—just as men’s
misfortunes are forgotten in the excitement of new enterprises. This new
interest was a valued novelty in whistling, which he had just acquired
from a negro, and he was suffering to practise it undisturbed. It
consisted in a peculiar bird-like turn, a sort of liquid warble,
produced by touching the tongue to the roof of the mouth at short
intervals in the midst of the music—the reader probably remembers how to
do it, if he has ever been a boy. Diligence and attention soon gave him
the knack of it, and he strode down the street with his mouth full of
harmony and his soul full of gratitude. He felt much as an astronomer
feels who has discovered a new planet—no doubt, as far as strong, deep,
unalloyed pleasure is concerned, the advantage was with the boy, not the
astronomer.
The summer evenings were long. It was not dark, yet. Presently Tom
checked his whistle. A stranger was before him—a boy a shade larger
than himself. A new-comer of any age or either sex was an impressive
curiosity in the poor little shabby village of St. Petersburg. This boy
was well dressed, too—well dressed on a week-day. This was simply
astounding. His cap was a dainty thing, his close-buttoned blue cloth
roundabout was new and natty, and so were his pantaloons. He had shoes
on—and it was only Friday. He even wore a necktie, a bright bit of
ribbon. He had a citified air about him that ate into Tom’s vitals. The
more Tom stared at the splendid marvel, the higher he turned up his nose
at his finery and the shabbier and shabbier his own outfit seemed to
him to grow. Neither boy spoke. If one moved, the other moved—but only
sidewise, in a circle; they kept face to face and eye to eye all the
time. Finally Tom said:
“I can lick you!”
“I’d like to see you try it.”
“Well, I can do it.”
“No you can’t, either.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t.”
“I can.”
“You can’t.”
“Can!”
“Can’t!”
An uncomfortable pause. Then Tom said:
“What’s your name?”
“’Tisn’t any of your business, maybe.”
“Well I ’low I’ll _make_ it my business.”
“Well why don’t you?”
“If you say much, I will.”
“Much—much—_much_. There now.”
“Oh, you think you’re mighty smart, _don’t_ you? I could lick you with
one hand tied behind me, if I wanted to.”
“Well why don’t you _do_ it? You _say_ you can do it.”
“Well I _will_, if you fool with me.”
“Oh yes—I’ve seen whole families in the same fix.”
“Smarty! You think you’re _some_, now, _don’t_ you? Oh, what a hat!”
“You can lump that hat if you don’t like it. I dare you to knock it
off—and anybody that’ll take a dare will suck eggs.”
“You’re a liar!”
“You’re another.”
“You’re a fighting liar and dasn’t take it up.”
“Aw—take a walk!”
“Say—if you give me much more of your sass I’ll take and bounce a rock
off’n your head.”
“Oh, of _course_ you will.”
“Well I _will_.”
“Well why don’t you _do_ it then? What do you keep _saying_ you will
for? Why don’t you _do_ it? It’s because you’re afraid.”
“I _ain’t_ afraid.”
“You are.”
“I ain’t.”
“You are.”
Another pause, and more eying and sidling around each other. Presently
they were shoulder to shoulder. Tom said:
“Get away from here!”
“Go away yourself!”
“I won’t.”
“I won’t either.”
So they stood, each with a foot placed at an angle as a brace, and both
shoving with might and main, and glowering at each other with hate. But
neither could get an advantage. After struggling till both were hot and
flushed, each relaxed his strain with watchful caution, and Tom said:
“You’re a coward and a pup. I’ll tell my big brother on you, and he can
thrash you with his little finger, and I’ll make him do it, too.”
“What do I care for your big brother? I’ve got a brother that’s bigger
than he is—and what’s more, he can throw him over that fence, too.”
[Both brothers were imaginary.]
“That’s a lie.”
“_Your_ saying so don’t make it so.”
Tom drew a line in the dust with his big toe, and said:
“I dare you to step over that, and I’ll lick you till you can’t stand
up. Anybody that’ll take a dare will steal sheep.”
The new boy stepped over promptly, and said:
“Now you said you’d do it, now let’s see you do it.”
“Don’t you crowd me now; you better look out.”
“Well, you _said_ you’d do it—why don’t you do it?”
“By jingo! for two cents I _will_ do it.”
The new boy took two broad coppers out of his pocket and held them out
with derision. Tom struck them to the ground. In an instant both boys
were rolling and tumbling in the dirt, gripped together like cats; and
for the space of a minute they tugged and tore at each other’s hair and
clothes, punched and scratched each other’s nose, and covered themselves
with dust and glory. Presently the confusion took form, and through the
fog of battle Tom appeared, seated astride the new boy, and pounding him
with his fists. “Holler ’nuff!” said he.
The boy only struggled to free himself. He was crying—mainly from rage.
“Holler ’nuff!”—and the pounding went on.
At last the stranger got out a smothered “’Nuff!” and Tom let him up and
said:
“Now that’ll learn you. Better look out who you’re fooling with next
time.”
The new boy went off brushing the dust from his clothes, sobbing,
snuffling, and occasionally looking back and shaking his head and
threatening what he would do to Tom the “next time he caught him out.”
To which Tom responded with jeers, and started off in high feather, and
as soon as his back was turned the new boy snatched up a stone, threw it
and hit him between the shoulders and then turned tail and ran like
an antelope. Tom chased the traitor home, and thus found out where he
lived. He then held a position at the gate for some time, daring the
enemy to come outside, but the enemy only made faces at him through the
window and declined. At last the enemy’s mother appeared, and called Tom
a bad, vicious, vulgar child, and ordered him away. So he went away; but
he said he “’lowed” to “lay” for that boy.
He got home pretty late that night, and when he climbed cautiously in
at the window, he uncovered an ambuscade, in the person of his aunt; and
when she saw the state his clothes were in her resolution to turn his
Saturday holiday into captivity at hard labor became adamantine in its
firmness.