Chapter 1
"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 obliged to make him work, to-morrow, 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."
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, troublesome 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 geeminy 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 closebuttoned 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 noses, 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. 
第一章　汤姆耍斗，东躲西藏
   “汤姆！”    没人答应。    “汤姆！”    又没人答应。    “这孩子到底怎么啦，我真搞不懂？你这个汤姆！”    还是没有人答应。    这老太太拉低眼镜从镜片上方朝房间看了看，然后她又抬高眼镜从镜片下面看。她很少或者干脆说她从来没戴正眼镜来找像一个小男孩这样小的东西。这副眼镜是很考究的，也是她的骄傲，她配这副眼镜不是为了实用，而是为了“装饰”，为了“漂亮”。她看东西时，即使戴上两片炉子盖也照样看得一清二楚。她茫然不知所措地愣了一会儿。然后虽然不是凶神恶煞般，但嗓门高得让每个角落都能听到，她说：    “好，我发誓如果我抓住你，我就——”    她话没有说完，因为这时她正弯腰用扫把往床下猛捣，每捣一下，她需要停下来换口气。结果，只捣出来一只猫。    “我还从没有见过这么令人吃惊的孩子！”    她走到敞开的门口，站在那里朝满园子的西红柿藤和吉普逊草丛中看，想找到汤姆，可还是没有。于是她亮开嗓子朝远处，高声喊到：    “汤姆呀，汤姆！”    这时在她身后传来一声轻微的响声，她转身一把抓住了一个小男孩的短外套的衣角，他想跑都跑不掉了。    “嘿！我早该想到那个壁橱，你躲在那里干什么？”    “没干什么。”    “没干什么？！瞧你那双手，再看你那张嘴，还有那浑身是什么？”    “我不知道，姨妈。”    “哎，我知道，那是蜜饯——对，就是。我已跟你讲过有四十遍了，不要动我的蜜饯，否则我就扒你的皮。把鞭子递给我。”    鞭子在空中晃悠——情况万分紧急。    “不得了！瞧你身后是什么，姨妈！”    老太太以为有危险，急忙撩起裙子，转过身去。汤姆拨腿就逃，顷刻他爬过高高的木栅栏，一转眼就消失得无影无踪。    他的波莉姨妈站在那儿先是一愣，随后突然轻声笑了起来。    “这个该死的，我怎么老是不吸取教训？和我开这样的玩笑，也不知开过多少次了。难道我不该有所提防吗？人老了，糊涂才是最大的糊涂蛋。俗话说得好，老狗学不会新把戏。可是天啦！他耍的鬼把戏里从来没有两天一样的，谁能猜出下个鬼主意是什么？他似乎知道，他能折磨我多长时间，我才会动肝火，而且他也知道他只要想个法哄哄我，惹我大笑一场，就会万事皆休，我也不会揍他一顿。我对他是敢怒不能揍。我对那孩子没尽到责任，上帝知道那是真的。《圣经》里说：‘孩子不打不成器。’我太溺爱那孩子，我也知道这对我俩都不好。他一肚鬼点子。哎呀，但他是我那死去的亲姐姐的儿子，可怜的孩子，我怎么也不忍心揍他。每一次饶了他，我良心都受谴责；可是每一回打他，我都有点心痛不忍。哎，哎，就像《圣经》所说的，人为母生，光阴荏苒，充满苦难。我看这话说得一点都不错。今天下午他要是逃学，明天我就想法让他干点活，惩罚惩罚他。星期六让他干活，恐怕苛刻了点，因为所有的孩子都放了假，他又恨透了干活，比恨什么都厉害。可是我不得不对他尽到我的责任，否则我会把这个孩子给毁了。”    汤姆真的没去上课，而且痛痛快快地玩了一场。他回家时正好赶上帮那小黑孩吉姆的忙，帮他在晚饭前锯第二天用的木头，劈引火用的柴——至少他及时赶到那儿，把他所干的事讲给吉姆听，而活却是吉姆干了四分之三。汤姆的弟弟（确切地说是同母异父的弟弟）希德已干完了他那份活（捡碎木块），因为他是个不声不响的孩子，从不干什么冒险的事，也不惹什么麻烦。    汤姆吃晚饭的时候，总是瞅机会偷糖吃，波莉姨妈这时开始问他，话里充满了诡计，而且非常巧妙——因为她要设点圈套，套他说出实话来。跟其他许多头脑简单的人一样，她很自负，并且相信自己很有点子，会耍弄诡秘狡猾的手腕，把自己极易被人识破的诡计当作最高明的计策，她说：    “汤姆，学校里挺热的，对吧？”    “是的，姨妈。”    “热的厉害，对不对？”    “对，姨妈。”    “你是不是想去游泳来着，汤姆。”    汤姆忽然感到有点慌张——一丝不安和疑惑掠过心头。他偷眼察看波莉姨妈的脸色，可什么也没有看出来。于是他说：    “没有啊，姨妈——呃，没怎么想去。”    老太太伸出手摸摸汤姆的衬衣，说道：    “可是你现在却并不怎么热，是吧！”她已发现衬衣是干的，却没有人知道她内心的真正用意，为此她感到很得意。而汤姆猜透了她的心思，所以他为防老太太的下一招来了个先发制人。    “有的人往大家头上打水——你瞧，我的头发还是湿的呢！”    波莉姨妈很懊恼，她居然没注意到这个明摆着的事实，以致错过了一次机会。可接着她灵机一动，计上心来：    “汤姆，你往头上浇水的时候，不必拆掉我给你衬衫上缝的领子吧？把上衣的纽扣解开！”    汤姆脸上的不安马上就消失了。他解开上衣，衬衣的领子还是缝的好好的。    “真是怪事。得，算了吧！我看你旷课去游泳了！我认为你就像俗话里说的烧焦毛的猫一样——并不像表面看起来的那样坏。就这一次，下不为例。”    她一面为自己的计谋落空而难过，一面又为汤姆这一次竟能如此温顺听话而高兴。    可是希德却说：    “哼，我记得你好像给他缝领子用的是白线，可现在却是黑线。”    “嘿，我的确用白线缝的！汤姆！”    可汤姆没等听完话就走了。他走出门口的时候说：    “希德，为这我可要狠狠揍你一顿。”    在一个安全的地方，汤姆仔细检查了别在上衣翻领上的两根大针，针上还穿着线，一根绕着白线，另一根绕着黑线。    他说：    “如果不是希德，她是永远不会注意到的。真讨厌！有时她用白线缝，有时又用黑线。我真希望她总是用一种线——换来换去我实在记不住。不过，我发誓非揍希德一顿不可，我要好好教训教训他。”    汤姆不是村里的模范男孩，但他对那位模范男孩非常熟悉，并且很讨厌他。    不到两分钟，甚至更短，他已将全部烦恼给忘记了。就像大人们的烦恼也是烦恼一样，他忘记烦恼并不是因为他的烦恼对他不怎么沉重和难受，而是因为一种新的、更强烈的兴趣暂时压倒并驱散了他心中的烦闷——就像大人们在新奇感受的兴奋之时，也会暂时忘却自己的不幸一样。这种新产生的兴趣就是一种新的吹口哨方法，它很有价值，是刚从一个黑人那学到的，现在他正要一心练习练习又不想被别人打扰。这声音很特别，像小鸟的叫声，一种流畅而委婉的音调。在吹这个调子的时候，舌头断断续续地抵住口腔的上腭——读者若曾经也是孩子的话，也许还记得该怎样吹这种口哨。汤姆学得很勤奋，练得很专心，很快就掌握了其中要领。于是他沿街大步流星地走着，口中吹着口哨，心里乐滋滋的，那股乐劲如同天文学家发现了新行星时一般，仅就乐的程度之深之强烈而言，此时的汤姆绝对比天文学家还要兴奋。    夏天的下午很长，这时天还没有黑。汤姆的口哨声忽然停住了，因为在他面前出现了一个陌生人——一个比他大一点的男孩。    在圣彼德堡这个贫穷、破落的小村子里，不管是男的还是女的，老的还是少的，只要是新来的，就能引起人们的好奇心。而且这个男孩穿得非常讲究——在平常工作日竟穿戴如此整齐，仅这就让汤姆对他刮目相看。他的帽子很精致，蓝色的上衣扣得紧紧的，又新又整洁，他的裤子也是一样。他竟然还穿着鞋——要知道，今天可是星期五！他甚至还打了条领带，那是条颜色鲜亮的丝质领带。他摆出一副城里人的架势，汤姆对此感到很不自在。汤姆眼盯着他那套漂亮的衣服，鼻子翘得高高的。可是他越看越是觉得自己身上的衣服很寒酸破旧。两个人都一声不吭。一个挪动一步，另一个也挪一步——可都是斜着步子兜圈子。他俩面对面，眼对眼这样相持了很长时间，最后还是汤姆先开了腔：    “我能打得过你！”    “我倒想见识见识。”    “那好，我就打给你看。”    “得了，你不行。”    “我行。”    “你就是不行。”    “我就是行。”    “不行！”    “行！”    “不行！”    两个人都不自在地停了下来。接着汤姆问道：    “你叫什么名字？”    “这也许你管不着！”    “哼，我就管得着！”    “好，那你就管管看。”    “要是你再啰嗦，我就管给你看。”    “啰嗦——啰嗦——偏要啰嗦，看你能怎么样？”    “哎，你认为你自己很了不起，是不是？如果我想打倒你的话，一只手背在后面都能打过你。”    “好啊，你说你能打过我，那你为什么不动手啊？”    “如果你老是嘴硬的话，我就打给你看。”    “嘿——你这种人我见得多了，尽吹大话下不了台！”    “哈！你自以为是个人物呢！瞧，你那帽子！”    “你要是看不顺眼你就把它摘下来呀，如果你敢碰，我就揍扁你！”    “你吹牛。”    “你也是吹牛。”    “你光是讲大话，不敢动手。”    “噢，滚你的蛋吧！”    “告诉你——要是你再骂我的话，我就用石头砸碎你的脑袋。”    “那好，你就来砸啊！”    “我肯定会的。”    “那你为什么不来试试？你老是吹牛不敢动手，哦，我知道你害怕了。”    “我才不怕呢！”    “你怕！”    “我不怕！”    “你就是怕！”    两个人暂停了一会儿，接着又眼对眼，身子侧身子兜着圈子走了几步。忽然两个人肩抵着肩。汤姆说：    “你从这滚吧！”    “你自己滚吧！”    “我不滚。”    “我也不滚。”    于是他俩站在那儿，双方都斜着一只脚撑着劲，用尽力气想把对手往后推，两个人都愤恨地瞪着对方。可是谁都没占优势。他们直斗得浑身燥热，满脸通红，然后两人稍稍放松，却都小心谨慎地提防着对方。这时，汤姆又说：“你是个胆小鬼，是个狗崽子。我要向我大哥哥告你的状，他只要动动小指头就能把你捏碎，我会让他揍你的。”    “我可不怕你什么大哥哥，我有一个比你大哥还大的大哥哥——而且我大哥哥能把你的大哥哥从那堵篱笆围墙扔过去。”    （两个人的所谓的大哥哥都是虚构的。）    “你撒谎。”    “你讲的也不是真的。”    汤姆用大脚趾头在地上的灰土上划了一道线，说：    “你若敢跨过这道线，我就把你打趴在地上，让你站不起来。谁敢，谁就得吃不了兜着走。”    这个新来的男孩毫不犹豫地跨过那道线，说：    “你说你敢打我，现在来看看你怎么打法。”    “你不要逼我！你最好还是当心点。”    “哎，你不是说要打我吗？——你为什么不动手啊？”    “得了，你要是肯给我两个分币，我就动手。”    新来的男孩果真从衣服口袋里掏出两个分币，嘲弄地摊开手掌。汤姆一把将钱打翻在地。立刻两个人像两只争食的猫一样，在地上的尘土里滚打，撕扯起来，紧接着又是扯头发，又是揪衣领，拼命地捶打对方的鼻子，抓对方的脸。两个人都弄得浑身是土，却又都威风凛凛。最后谁胜谁败逐渐见了分晓，汤姆从尘土中爬起来，骑在那个男孩的身上，攥紧拳头使劲地打那个男孩。    “挨够了吗？求饶吧！”他说。    那个男孩只想挣脱出来。他气得嚎啕大哭。    汤姆还在不停地捶打，说：“求饶吧！”    那男孩只好挤出几个字：“饶了我！”    汤姆让他站起来，对他说：    “现在你知道我的厉害了吧！以后最好给我小心点，看看在跟谁嘴硬。”    这位新来的男孩拍拍身上的尘土，哭哭啼啼地走开了。他不时地回过头来，摇晃着脑袋，吓唬汤姆：    “下次要是抓住你，我就，我就……”    汤姆对此不屑一顾，趾高气扬地走开了。他的背刚一转过来，那男孩子就抓起一块石头朝他砸过来，正打在汤姆的背上，接着就夹着尾巴，像羚羊似的飞快地跑掉了。汤姆穷追不舍，直追到他家。他就站在人家大门口，嚷着叫那男孩出来较量，可是那个对手只是在窗子里朝他挤鼻子弄眼，拒不迎战。最后那对手的妈妈出来了，咒骂汤姆是个邪恶下流、没有家教的坏孩子，喝斥他赶快滚开。于是汤姆就走了，不过，他临走时说还要寻机再教训教训那混小子一顿。    那天晚上，他回到家时已经很迟了。当他小心翼翼地从窗户往里爬时，猛然间发现了有人埋伏，仔细一看，原来是他的波莉姨妈。她看到他衣服被弄成那副样子，原来就打算让汤姆在星期六休息日干活的决心现在就更加坚定了。  
Chapter 2
SATURDAY morning was come, and all the summer world was bright and fresh, and brimming with life. There was a song in every heart; and if the heart was young the music issued at the lips. There was cheer in every face and a spring in every step. The locust-trees were in bloom and the fragrance of the blossoms filled the air. Cardiff Hill, beyond the village and above it, was green with vegetation and it lay just far enough away to seem a Delectable Land, dreamy, reposeful, and inviting.
Tom appeared on the sidewalk with a bucket of whitewash and a long-handled brush. He surveyed the fence, and all gladness left him and a deep melancholy settled down upon his spirit. Thirty yards of board fence nine feet high. Life to him seemed hollow, and existence but a burden. Sighing, he dipped his brush and passed it along the topmost plank; repeated the operation; did it again; compared the insignificant whitewashed streak with the far-reaching continent of unwhitewashed fence, and sat down on a tree-box discouraged. Jim came skipping out at the gate with a tin pail, and singing ~Buffalo Gals. Bringing water from the town pump had always been hateful work in Tom's eyes, before, but now it did not strike him so. He remembered that there was company at the pump. White, mulatto, and negro boys and girls were always there waiting their turns, resting, trading playthings, quarrelling, fighting, skylarking. And he remembered that although the pump was only a hundred and fifty yards off, Jim never got back with a bucket of water under an hour -- and even then somebody generally had to go after him. Tom said:
"Say, Jim, I'll fetch the water if you'll whitewash some."
Jim shook his head and said:
"Can't, Mars Tom. Ole missis, she tole me I got to go an' git dis water an' not stop foolin' roun' wid anybody. She say she spec' Mars Tom gwine to ax me to whitewash, an' so she tole me go 'long an' 'tend to my own business -- she 'lowed she'd 'tend to de whitewashin'."
"Oh, never you mind what she said, Jim. That's the way she always talks. Gimme the bucket -- I won't be gone only a a minute. SHE won't ever know."
"Oh, I dasn't, Mars Tom. Ole missis she'd take an' tar de head off'n me. 'Deed she would."
"She! She never licks anybody -- whacks 'em over the head with her thimble -- and who cares for that, I'd like to know. She talks awful, but talk don't hurt -- anyways it don't if she don't cry. Jim, I'll give you a marvel. I'll give you a white alley!"
Jim began to waver.
"White alley, Jim! And it's a bully taw."
"My! Dat's a mighty gay marvel, I tell you! But Mars Tom I's powerful 'fraid ole missis --"
"And besides, if you will I'll show you my sore toe."
Jim was only human -- this attraction was too much for him. He put down his pail, took the white alley, and bent over the toe with absorbing interest while the bandage was being unwound. In another moment he was flying down the street with his pail and a tingling rear, Tom was whitewashing with vigor, and Aunt Polly was retiring from the field with a slipper in her hand and triumph in her eye. But Tom's energy did not last. He began to think of the fun he had planned for this day, and his sorrows multiplied. Soon the free boys would come tripping along on all sorts of delicious expeditions, and they would make a world of fun of him for having to work -- the very thought of it burnt him like fire. He got out his worldly wealth and examined it -- bits of toys, marbles, and trash; enough to buy an exchange of WORK, maybe, but not half enough to buy so much as half an hour of pure freedom. So he returned his straitened means to his pocket, and gave up the idea of trying to buy the boys. At this dark and hopeless moment an inspiration burst upon him! Nothing less than a great, magnificent inspiration.
He took up his brush and went tranquilly to work. Ben Rogers hove in sight presently -- the very boy, of all boys, whose ridicule he had been dreading. Ben's gait was the hop-skip-and-jump -- proof enough that his heart was light and his anticipations high. He was eating an apple, and giving a long, melodious whoop, at intervals, followed by a deep-toned ding-dong-dong, ding-dong-dong, for he was personating a steamboat. As he drew near, he slackened speed, took the middle of the street, leaned far over to star-board and rounded to ponderously and with laborious pomp and circumstance -- for he was personating the Big missouri, and considered himself to be drawing nine feet of water. He was boat and captain and engine-bells combined, so he had to imagine himself standing on his own hurricane-deck giving the orders and executing them:
"Stop her, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!" The headway ran almost out, and he drew up slowly toward the sidewalk.
"Ship up to back! Ting-a-ling-ling!" His arms straightened and stiffened down his sides.
"Set her back on the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow! ch-chow-wow! Chow!" His right hand, meantime, describing stately circles -- for it was representing a forty-foot wheel.
"Let her go back on the labboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ch-chow-chow!" The left hand began to describe circles.
"Stop the stabboard! Ting-a-ling-ling! Stop the labboard! Come ahead on the stabboard! Stop her! Let your outside turn over slow! Ting-a-ling-ling! Chow-ow-ow! Get out that head-line! lively now! Come -- out with your spring-line -- what're you about there! Take a turn round that stump with the bight of it! Stand by that stage, now -- let her go! Done with the engines, sir! Ting-a-ling-ling!"
"Sh't! s'h't! sh't!" (trying the gauge-cocks).
Tom went on whitewashing -- paid no attention to the steamboat. Ben stared a moment and then said: "Hi-Yi! you're up a stump, ain't you!"
No answer. Tom surveyed his last touch with the eye of an artist, then he gave his brush another gentle sweep and surveyed the result, as before. Ben ranged up alongside of him. Tom's mouth watered for the apple, but he stuck to his work. Ben said:
"Hello, old chap, you got to work, hey?"
Tom wheeled suddenly and said:
"Why, it's you, Ben! I warn't noticing."
"Say -- I'm going in a-swimming, I am. Don't you wish you could? But of course you'd druther work -- wouldn't you? Course you would!"
Tom contemplated the boy a bit, and said:
"What do you call work?"
"Why, ain't that work?"
Tom resumed his whitewashing, and answered carelessly:
"Well, maybe it is, and maybe it ain't. All I know, is, it suits Tom Sawyer."
"Oh come, now, you don't mean to let on that you like it?"
The brush continued to move.
"Like it? Well, I don't see why I oughtn't to like it. Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?"
That put the thing in a new light. Ben stopped nibbling his apple. Tom swept his brush daintily back and forth -- stepped back to note the effect -- added a touch here and there -- criticised the effect again -- Ben watching every move and getting more and more interested, more and more absorbed. Presently he said:
"Say, Tom, let me whitewash a little."
Tom considered, was about to consent; but he altered his mind:
"No -- no -- I reckon it wouldn't hardly do, Ben. You see, Aunt Polly's awful particular about this fence -- right here on the street, you know -- but if it was the back fence I wouldn't mind and she wouldn't. Yes, she's awful particular about this fence; it's got to be done very careful; I reckon there ain't one boy in a thousand, maybe two thousand, that can do it the way it's got to be done."
"No -- is that so? Oh come, now -- lemme just try. Only just a little -- I'd let you, if you was me, Tom."
"Ben, I'd like to, honest injun; but Aunt Polly -- well, Jim wanted to do it, but she wouldn't let him; Sid wanted to do it, and she wouldn't let Sid. Now don't you see how I'm fixed? If you was to tackle this fence and anything was to happen to it --"
"Oh, shucks, I'll be just as careful. Now lemme try. Say -- I'll give you the core of my apple."
"Well, here -- No, Ben, now don't. I'm afeard --"
"I'll give you all of it!"
Tom gave up the brush with reluctance in his face, but alacrity in his heart. And while the late steamer Big Missouri worked and sweated in the sun, the retired artist sat on a barrel in the shade close by, dangled his legs, munched his apple, and planned the slaughter of more innocents. There was no lack of material; boys happened along every little while; they came to jeer, but remained to whitewash. By the time Ben was fagged out, Tom had traded the next chance to Billy Fisher for a kite, in good repair; and when he played out, Johnny Miller bought in for a dead rat and a string to swing it with -- and so on, and so on, hour after hour. And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass doorknob, a dog-collar -- but no dog -- the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash.
He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while -- plenty of company -- and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village.
Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it -- namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. And this would help him to understand why constructing artificial flowers or performing on a tread-mill is work, while rolling ten-pins or climbing Mont Blanc is only amusement. There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and then they would resign.
The boy mused awhile over the substantial change which had taken place in his worldly circumstances, and then wended toward headquarters to report.  
第二章　无奈刷墙，成绩辉煌     星期六的早晨到了，夏天的世界，阳光明媚，空气新鲜，充满了生机。每个人的心中都荡漾着一首歌，有些年轻人情不自禁地唱出了这首歌。每个人脸上都洋溢着欢乐，每个人的脚步都是那么轻盈。洋槐树正开着花，空气里弥漫着芬芳的花香。村庄外面高高的卡第夫山上覆盖着绿色的植被，这山离村子不远不近，就像一块“乐土”，宁静安详，充满梦幻，令人向往。    汤姆出现在人行道上，一只手拎着一桶灰浆，另一只手拿着一把长柄刷子。他环顾栅栏，所有的快乐，立刻烟消云散，心中充满了惆怅。栅栏可是三十码长，九英尺高啊。生活对他来说太乏味空洞了，活着仅是一种负担。他叹了一口气，用刷子蘸上灰浆，沿着最顶上一层木板刷起来。接着又刷了一下，二下。看看刚刷过的不起眼的那块，再和那远不着边际的栅栏相比，汤姆灰心丧气地在一块木箱子上坐下来。这时，吉姆手里提着一个锡皮桶，嘴中唱着“布法罗的女娃们”蹦蹦跳跳地从大门口跑出来。在汤姆眼中，到镇上从抽水机里拎水，一向是件令人厌烦的差事，现在他可不这样看了。他记得在那里有很多伴儿。有白人孩子，黑人孩子，还有混血孩子，男男女女都在那排队等着提水。大家在那儿休息，交换各自玩的东西，吵吵闹闹，争斗嬉戏。而且他还记得尽管他们家离拎水处只有一百五十码左右，可是吉姆从没有在一个小时里拎回一桶水来——有时甚至还得别人去催才行。汤姆说：    “喂，吉姆，如果你来刷点墙，我就去提水。”    吉姆摇摇头，说：    “不行，汤姆少爷。老太太，她叫我去提水，不准在路上停下来和人家玩。她说她猜到汤姆少爷你会让我刷墙，所以她吩咐我只管干自己的活，莫管他人闲事——她说她要亲自来看看你刷墙。”    “咳，吉姆，你别管她对你说的那一套。她总是这样说的。    把水桶给我——我很快就回来。她不会知道的。”    “哦，不，我可不敢，汤姆少爷。老太太她会把我的头给拧下来的，她真的会的！”    “她吗？她从来没揍过任何人——她不过是用顶针在头上敲敲罢了——谁还在乎这个，我倒是想问问你。她不过是嘴上说得凶，可是说说又伤害不了你——只要她不大叫大嚷就没事。吉姆，我给你一个好玩意，给你一个白石头子儿！”    吉姆开始动摇了。    “白石头子，吉姆！这可是真正好玩的石头子啊。”    “嘿，老实说，那是个挺不错的好玩意。可是汤姆少爷，我害怕老太太……”    “还有，吉姆，只要你答应了的话，我还给你看我那只脚趾头，那只肿痛的脚趾头。”    吉姆到底是个凡人，不是神仙——这诱惑对他太大了。他放下水桶，接过白石头子儿，还饶有兴趣地弯着腰看汤姆解开缠在脚上的布带子，看那只肿痛的脚趾。可是，一会儿之后，吉姆的屁股直痛，拎着水桶飞快地沿着街道跑掉了；汤姆继续用劲地刷墙，因为波莉姨妈此时从田地干活回来了。她手里提着一只拖鞋，眼里流露出满意的神色。    不过，汤姆这股劲没持续多久。他开始想起原先为这个休息日所作的一些玩耍的安排，心里越想越不是滋味。再过一会儿，那些自由自在的孩子们就会蹦跳着跑过来，做各种各样开心好玩的游戏，他们看到他不得不刷墙干活，会大肆嘲笑挖苦他的——一想到这，汤姆心里就像火烧似的难受。他拿出他全部的家当宝贝，仔细地看了一阵——有残缺不全的玩具、一些石头子、还有一些没有什么用处的东西。这些玩意足够用来换取别的孩子为自己干活，不过，要想换来半个小时的绝对自由，也许还差得远呢。于是他又把这几件可怜的宝贝玩意装进口袋，打消了用这些来收买那些男孩子的念头。正在这灰心绝望的时刻，他忽然灵机一动，计上心来。这主意实在是聪明绝伦，妙不可言。    他拿起刷子，一声不响地干了起来。不一会儿，本·罗杰斯出现了——在所有的孩子们当中，正是这个男孩叫汤姆最害怕。汤姆最怕他的讥讽。本走路好像是做三级跳——这证明他此时的心情轻松愉快，而且还打算干点痛快高兴的事。他正在吃苹果，不时地发出长长的、好听的“呜——”的叫声，隔会儿还“叮当当、叮当当”地学铃声响，他这是在扮演一只蒸汽轮船。他越来越近，于是他减慢速度，走到街中心，身体倾向右舷，吃力、做作地转了船头使船逆风停下——他在扮演“大密苏里号”，好像已吃水九英尺深。他既当船，又当船长还要当轮机铃。因此他就想象着自己站在轮船的顶层甲板上发着命令，同时还执行着这些命令。    “停船，伙计！叮——啊铃！”船几乎停稳了，然后他又慢慢地向人行道靠过来。    “调转船头！叮——啊铃——铃！”他两臂伸直，用力往两边垂着。    “右舷后退，叮——啊铃——铃！嚓呜——嚓——嚓呜！嚓呜！”    他一边喊着，一边用手比划着画个大圈——这代表着一个四十英尺大转轮。    “左舷后退！叮——啊铃——铃！嚓呜——嚓——嚓呜——嚓呜！”左手开始画圈。    “右舷停！叮——啊铃——铃！左舷停！右舷前进！停！外面慢慢转过来！叮——啊铃——铃！嚓——呜——呜！把船头的绳索拿过来！快点！喂——再把船边的绳索递过来——你在发什么呆！把绳头靠船桩绕住好，就这么拉紧——放手吧！发动机停住，伙计！叮——啊铃——铃！希特——希特——希特！”（摹仿着汽门排气的声音。）    汤姆继续刷栅栏，——不去理睬那只蒸汽轮船，本瞪着眼睛看了一会儿，说：    “哎呀，你日子好过了，是不是？”    汤姆没有回答。只是用艺术家的眼光审视他最后刷的那一块，接着轻轻地刷了一下。又像刚才那样打量着栅栏。本走过来站在他身旁。看见那苹果，汤姆馋得直流口水，可是他还是继续刷他的墙。本说：    “嘿，老伙计，你还得干活呀，咦？”    汤姆猛然地转过身来说道：“咳！是你呀，本。我还没注意到你呢。”    “哈，告诉你吧，我可是要去游泳了。难道你不想去吗？当然啦，你宁愿在这干活，对不对？当然你情愿！”    汤姆打量了一下那男孩，说：    “你说什么？这叫干活？”    “这还不叫干活，叫干什么？”    汤姆重新又开始刷墙，漫不经心地说：“这也许是干活，也许不是。我只知道这对汤姆·索亚来说倒是很得劲。”    “哦，得了吧！难道你的意思是说你喜欢干这事？”    刷子还在不停地刷着。    “喜欢干？哎，我真搞不懂为什么我要不喜欢干，哪个男孩子能天天有机会刷墙？”    这倒是件新鲜事。于是，本停止了啃苹果。汤姆灵巧地用刷子来回刷着——不时地停下来退后几步看看效果——在这补一刷，在那补一刷——然后再打量一下效果——本仔细地观看着汤姆的一举一动，越看越有兴趣，越看越被吸引住了。后来他说：    “喂，汤姆，让我来刷点儿看看。”    汤姆想了一下，正打算答应他；可是他立刻又改变了主意：    “不——不行，本——我想这恐怕不行。要知道，波莉姨妈对这面墙是很讲究的——这可是当街的一面呀——不过要是后面的，你刷刷倒也无妨，姨妈也不会在乎的。是呀，她对道墙是非常讲究的。刷这墙一定得非常精心。我想在一千，也许在两千个孩子里，也找不出一个能按波莉姨妈的要求刷好这道墙的。”“哦，是吗？哎，就让我试一试吧。我只刷一点儿——汤姆，如果我是你的话，我会让你试试的。”    “本，我倒是愿意，说真的。可是，波莉姨妈——唉，吉姆想刷，可她不叫他刷，希德也想干，她也不让希德干。现在，你知道我该有多么为难？要是你来摆弄这墙，万一出了什么毛病……”    “啊，没事，我会小心仔细的。还是让我来试试吧。嘿——我把苹果核给你。”    “唉，那就……不行，本，算了吧。我就怕……。”    “我把这苹果全给你！”    汤姆把刷子让给本，脸上显示出不情愿，可心里却美滋滋的。    当刚才那只“大密苏里号”在阳光下干活，累得大汗淋漓的时候，这位离了职的艺术家却在附近的阴凉下，坐在一只木桶上，跷着二郎腿，一边大口大口地吃着苹果，一边暗暗盘算如何再宰更多的傻瓜。这样的小傻瓜会有许多。每过一会儿，就有些男孩子从这经过；起先他们都想来开开玩笑，可是结果都被留下来刷墙。在本累得精疲力尽时，汤姆早已经和比利·费施做好了交易。比利用一个修得很好的风筝换来接替本的机会。等到比利也玩得差不多的时候，詹尼·米勒用一只死老鼠和拴着它的小绳子购买了这个特权——一个又一个的傻小子受骗上了当，接连几个钟头都没有间断。下午快过了一半的时候，汤姆早上还是个贫困潦倒的穷小子，现在一下子就变成了腰包鼓鼓的阔佬了。除了以上提到的那些玩意以外，还有十二颗石头子；一只破口琴；一块可以透视的蓝玻璃片；一门线轴做的大炮；一把什么锁也不开的钥匙；一截粉笔；一个大酒瓶塞子；一个锡皮做的小兵；一对蝌蚪；六个鞭炮；一只独眼小猫；一个门上的铜把手；一根拴狗的颈圈——却没有狗——一个刀把；四片桔子皮；还有一个破旧的窗框。    他一直过得舒舒服服，悠闲自在——同伴很多——而且墙整整被刷了三遍。要不是他的灰浆用光了的话，他会让村里的每个孩子都掏空腰包破产的。    汤姆自言自语道，这世界原来并不是那么空洞乏味啊。他已经不知不觉地发现了人类行为的一大法则——那就是为了让一个大人或一个小孩渴望干什么事，只需设法将这事变得难以到手就行了。如果他是位伟大而明智的哲学家，就像这本书的作者，他就会懂得所谓“工作”就是一个人被迫要干的事情，至于“玩”就是一个人没有义务要干的事。这个道理使他明白了为什么做假花和蹬车轮就算是工作，而玩十柱戏和爬勃朗峰就算是娱乐。英国有钱的绅士在夏季每天驾着四轮马拉客车沿着同样的路线走上二三十里，他们为这种特权竟花了很多钱。可是如果因此付钱给他们的话，那就把这桩事情变成了工作，他们就会撒手不干了。    汤姆思考了一会那天发生在他身边的实质性变化，然后就到司令部报告去了。
Chapter 3
TOM presented himself before Aunt Polly, who was sitting by an open window in a pleasant rearward apartment, which was bedroom, breakfast-room, dining-room, and library, combined. The balmy summer air, the restful quiet, the odor of the flowers, and the drowsing murmur of the bees had had their effect, and she was nodding over her knitting -- for she had no company but the cat, and it was asleep in her lap. Her spectacles were propped up on her gray head for safety. She had thought that of course Tom had deserted long ago, and she wondered at seeing him place himself in her power again in this intrepid way. He said: "Mayn't I go and play now, aunt?"
"What, a'ready? How much have you done?"
"It's all done, aunt."
"Tom, don't lie to me -- I can't bear it."
"I ain't, aunt; it is all done."
Aunt Polly placed small trust in such evidence. She went out to see for herself; and she would have been content to find twenty per cent. of Tom's statement true. When she found the entire fence whitewashed, and not only whitewashed but elaborately coated and recoated, and even a streak added to the ground, her astonishment was almost unspeakable. She said:
"Well, I never! There's no getting round it, you can work when you're a mind to, Tom." And then she diluted the compliment by adding, "But it's powerful seldom you're a mind to, I'm bound to say. Well, go 'long and play; but mind you get back some time in a week, or I'll tan you."
She was so overcome by the splendor of his achievement that she took him into the closet and selected a choice apple and delivered it to him, along with an improving lecture upon the added value and flavor a treat took to itself when it came without sin through virtuous effort. And while she closed with a happy Scriptural flourish, he "hooked" a doughnut.
Then he skipped out, and saw Sid just starting up the outside stairway that led to the back rooms on the second floor. Clods were handy and the air was full of them in a twinkling. They raged around Sid like a hail-storm; and before Aunt Polly could collect her surprised faculties and sally to the rescue, six or seven clods had taken personal effect, and Tom was over the fence and gone. There was a gate, but as a general thing he was too crowded for time to make use of it. His soul was at peace, now that he had settled with Sid for calling attention to his black thread and getting him into trouble.
Tom skirted the block, and came round into a muddy alley that led by the back of his aunt's cow-stable. He presently got safely beyond the reach of capture and punishment, and hastened toward the public square of the village, where two "military" companies of boys had met for conflict, according to previous appointment. Tom was General of one of these armies, Joe Harper (a bosom friend) General of the other. These two great commanders did not condescend to fight in person -- that being better suited to the still smaller fry -- but sat together on an eminence and conducted the field operations by orders delivered through aides-de-camp. Tom's army won a great victory, after a long and hard-fought battle. Then the dead were counted, prisoners exchanged, the terms of the next disagreement agreed upon, and the day for the necessary battle appointed; after which the armies fell into line and marched away, and Tom turned homeward alone.
As he was passing by the house where Jeff Thatcher lived, he saw a new girl in the garden -- a lovely little blue-eyed creature with yellow hair plaited into two long-tails, white summer frock and embroidered pantalettes. The fresh-crowned hero fell without firing a shot. A certain Amy Lawrence vanished out of his heart and left not even a memory of herself behind. He had thought he loved her to distraction; he had regarded his passion as adoration; and behold it was only a poor little evanescent partiality. He had been months winning her; she had confessed hardly a week ago; he had been the happiest and the proudest boy in the world only seven short days, and here in one instant of time she had gone out of his heart like a casual stranger whose visit is done.
He worshipped this new angel with furtive eye, till he saw that she had discovered him; then he pretended he did not know she was present, and began to "show off" in all sorts of absurd  boyish ways, in order to win her admiration. He kept up this grotesque foolishness for some time; but by-and-by, while he was in the midst of some dangerous gymnastic performances, he glanced aside and saw that the little girl was wending her way toward the house. Tom came up to the fence and leaned on it, grieving, and hoping she would tarry yet awhile longer. She halted a moment on the steps and then moved toward the door. Tom heaved a great sigh as she put her foot on the threshold. But his face lit up, right away, for she tossed a pansy over the fence a moment before she disappeared.
The boy ran around and stopped within a foot or two of the flower, and then shaded his eyes with his hand and began to look down street as if he had discovered something of interest going on in that direction. Presently he picked up a straw and began trying to balance it on his nose, with his head tilted far back; and as he moved from side to side, in his efforts, he edged nearer and nearer toward the pansy; finally his bare foot rested upon it, his pliant toes closed upon it, and he hopped away with the treasure and disappeared round the corner. But only for a minute -- only while he could button the flower inside his jacket, next his heart -- or next his stomach, possibly, for he was not much posted in anatomy, and not hypercritical, anyway.
He returned, now, and hung about the fence till nightfall, "showing off," as before; but the girl never exhibited herself again, though Tom comforted himself a little with the hope that she had been near some window, meantime, and been aware of his attentions. Finally he strode home reluctantly, with his poor head full of visions.
All through supper his spirits were so high that his aunt wondered "what had got into the child." He took a good scolding about clodding Sid, and did not seem to mind it in the least. He tried to steal sugar under his aunt's very nose, and got his knuckles rapped for it. He said:
"Aunt, you don't whack Sid when he takes it."
"Well, Sid don't torment a body the way you do. You'd be always into that sugar if I warn't watching you."
Presently she stepped into the kitchen, and Sid, happy in his immunity, reached for the sugar-bowl -- a sort of glorying over Tom which was wellnigh unbearable. But Sid's fingers slipped and the bowl dropped and broke. Tom was in ecstasies. In such ecstasies that he even controlled his tongue and was silent. He said to himself that he would not speak a word, even when his aunt came in, but would sit perfectly still till she asked who did the mischief; and then he would tell, and there would be nothing so good in the world as to see that pet model "catch it." He was so brimful of exultation that he could hardly hold himself when the old lady came back and stood above the wreck discharging lightnings of wrath from over her spectacles. He said to himself, "Now it's coming!" And the next instant he was sprawling on the floor! The potent palm was uplifted to strike again when Tom cried out:
"Hold on, now, what 'er you belting me for? -- Sid broke it!"
Aunt Polly paused, perplexed, and Tom looked for healing pity. But when she got her tongue again, she only said:
"Umf! Well, you didn't get a lick amiss, I reckon. You been into some other audacious mischief when I wasn't around, like enough."
Then her conscience reproached her, and she yearned to say something kind and loving; but she judged that this would be construed into a confession that she had been in the wrong, and discipline forbade that. So she kept silence, and went about her affairs with a troubled heart. Tom sulked in a corner and exalted his woes. He knew that in her heart his aunt was on her knees to him, and he was morosely gratified by the consciousness of it. He would hang out no signals, he would take notice of none. He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him, now and then, through a film of tears, but he refused recognition of it. He pictured himself lying sick unto death and his aunt bending over him beseeching one little forgiving word, but he would turn his face to the wall, and die with that word unsaid. Ah, how would she feel then? And he pictured himself brought home from the river, dead, with his curls all wet, and his sore heart at rest. How she would throw herself upon him, and how her tears would fall like rain, and her lips pray God to give her back her boy and she would never, never abuse him any more! But he would lie there cold and white and make no sign -- a poor little sufferer, whose griefs were at an end. He so worked upon his feelings with the pathos of these dreams, that he had to keep swallowing, he was so like to choke; and his eyes swam in a blur of water, which overflowed when he winked, and ran down and trickled from the end of his nose. And such a luxury to him was this petting of his sorrows, that he could not bear to have any worldly cheeriness or any grating delight intrude upon it; it was too sacred for such contact; and so, presently, when his cousin Mary danced in, all alive with the joy of seeing home again after an age-long visit of one week to the country, he got up and moved in clouds and darkness out at one door as she brought song and sunshine in at the other.
He wandered far from the accustomed haunts of boys, and sought desolate places that were in harmony with his spirit. A log raft in the river invited him, and he seated himself on its outer edge and contemplated the dreary vastness of the stream, wishing, the while, that he could only be drowned, all at once and unconsciously, without undergoing the uncomfortable routine devised by nature. Then he thought of his flower. He got it out, rumpled and wilted, and it mightily increased his dismal felicity. He wondered if she would pity him if she knew? Would she cry, and wish that she had a right to put her arms around his neck and comfort him? Or would she turn coldly away like all the hollow world? This picture brought such an agony of pleasurable suffering that he worked it over and over again in his mind and set it up in new and varied lights, till he wore it threadbare. At last he rose up sighing and departed in the darkness.
About half-past nine or ten o'clock he came along the deserted street to where the Adored Unknown lived; he paused a moment; no sound fell upon his listening ear; a candle was casting a dull glow upon the curtain of a second-story window. Was the sacred presence there? He climbed the fence, threaded his stealthy way through the plants, till he stood under that window; he looked up at it long, and with emotion; then he laid him down on the ground under it, disposing himself upon his back, with his hands clasped upon his breast and holding his poor wilted flower. And thus he would die -- out in the cold world, with no shelter over his homeless head, no friendly hand to wipe the death-damps from his brow, no loving face to bend pityingly over him when the great agony came. And thus she would see him when she looked out upon the glad morning, and oh! would she drop one little tear upon his poor, lifeless form, would she heave one little sigh to see a bright young life so rudely blighted, so untimely cut down?
The window went up, a maid-servant's discordant voice profaned the holy calm, and a deluge of water drenched the prone martyr's remains!
The strangling hero sprang up with a relieving snort. There was a whiz as of a missile in the air, mingled with the murmur of a curse, a sound as of shivering glass followed, and a small, vague form went over the fence and shot away in the gloom.
Not long after, as Tom, all undressed for bed, was surveying his drenched garments by the light of a tallow dip, Sid woke up; but if he had any dim idea of making any "references to allusions," he thought better of it and held his peace, for there was danger in Tom's eye.
Tom turned in without the added vexation of prayers, and Sid made mental note of the omission.  
第三章　打仗恋爱忙得汤姆不亦乐乎     汤姆来到波莉姨妈面前，她正坐在宽敞舒适的后面房间的一个敞开的窗户旁边。这间房既是卧室、餐厅，又是图书馆。夏日芳香的空气，令人困倦的幽静，醉人的花香，还有催你入眠的嗡嗡的蜜蜂叫声，都已产生了效应，她拿着针织物在那儿打盹——因为除了只猫没有伴儿，而那猫又在她膝上睡着了。为了不打碎眼镜，她把它架在灰白的头顶上。她原以为汤姆早就溜去玩了，现在见他居然听了她的话，毫不害怕地站在她面前，不免有些诧异。他问：    “我现在可以去玩了吗？姨妈。”    “怎么，想去玩了？你刷了多少了？”    “姨妈，都刷好了。”    “汤姆，不要再跟我撒谎了——我受不了。”    “没有啊，姨妈，墙的确刷好了。”    波莉姨妈对他的话不太相信。她要亲自去看一看。只要汤姆讲的话有百分之二十是真的，她也就心满意足了。当她发现整个墙都已刷过了，不仅刷了而且是刷了一遍又一遍，甚至连地上还抹了一块，她惊讶得无法形容。她说：    “哎，真是怪事！简直叫人不可思议！汤姆，只要你想干的时候，你是挺能干的。”然后又补了一句，这一句可冲淡了刚才的表扬。“我不得不说，你想干的时候实在是太少了。好了，去玩吧，不过，别忘了到了该回来时就得回家，否则我会捶你一顿。”    她为汤姆所取得的成绩而喜出望外，于是，她把他领到贮藏室，选了一个又大又好的苹果递给了他。同时还教导他，如果别人对自己的款待是靠自己努力得来的，而不是靠什么不道德的手段谋取的，那就格外有价值，有意味。在她背了《圣经》中的一句妙语格言作结束语时，汤姆顺手牵羊偷了一块油炸面圈。    然后，他就一蹦一跳地跑出来，正好看见希德在爬通向二楼后面房间的楼梯。地上的泥块顺手可得，于是汤姆捡起泥块朝希德扔过去。这些土块像冰雹似的，在希德周围满天飞舞。波莉姨妈还没有来得及静一静她那吃惊的神经，赶紧跑过来解围，这时候，已经有六七块泥土打中了希德，而汤姆早已翻过栅栏逃之夭夭。栅栏上有大门，可是像平常一样汤姆急着要出去，没有时间从门那里走。希德让波莉姨妈注意到他的黑线，让他吃了苦头，受了罚，现在他已经对希德出了气，摆平了这件事，因此他心里觉得好受多了。    汤姆绕过那一排房子，来到靠着他姨妈牛圈后面的一条泥泞巷子里。他很快就完全地溜到抓不到也罚不着他的地方，匆忙赶到村里那块公共场地。在那里，两支由孩子们组成的“军队”按事先的约定已集合起来，准备打仗。汤姆是其中一支部队的将军，他的知心好友乔·哈帕则是另一支队伍的统帅，这两位总指挥不屑于亲自战斗——那更适合手下的军官战士去打——而他们却在一个凸出的高地方坐在一块，让他们的随从副官去发号施令，指挥打仗。经过一番长时间的艰苦奋战，汤姆的部队取得了辉煌的胜利。接着就是双方清点死亡人数，交换战俘，谈妥下次交战条件，还约定好作战日期。一切结束之后，双方部队先列好队形，然后开拔，而汤姆也就独自回家了。    他走过杰夫·撒切尔家住的房子的时候，看见有一个新来的女孩子站在花园里——一个漂亮可爱的蓝眼睛的小姑娘。金黄色的头发梳成两只长长的发辫，身上穿着白色的夏季上装和宽松的长裤。这位刚戴上胜利花冠的战斗英雄一枪没打就束手投降了。一个叫艾美·劳伦斯的姑娘立刻从他的心目中消失了而且不留一点痕迹，他原以为他爱她爱得发狂，而且他把自己这种爱当作深情的爱慕，不过旁人看来那不过是一种可怜渺小、变幻无常的爱恋罢了。为了获取她的欢心，他费了好几个月的工夫，可她答应他还不到一个星期。他只是在短短的七天内当了一次世界上最幸福、最自豪的男孩子。可现在片刻之间，她就像一位拜访完毕，告辞离去的稀客一般，从他心里离去了，消失了，被他忘得一干二净。    他爱慕这位新来的天使并偷眼望她，直到看到她发现他为止。然后，他装着她好像不在的样子，开始用各种各样可笑的孩子气的方法来炫耀自己，为的是赢得她的好感。他傻乎乎地耍弄一阵子，然后一面做惊险的体操动作，一面眼往旁边瞟了一下，见那小姑娘正朝房子走去。汤姆走到栅栏那儿，靠在栅栏上伤心，希望她再多留一阵子。她在台阶上稍作停留，然后又朝门口走去。当她抬脚上门槛时，汤姆长叹了一声。即刻他脸上又露出喜色，因为她在进去之前，向栅栏外面扔了一朵三色紫罗兰花。    汤姆跑过去停在离花一两英尺的地方，然后用手罩在眼睛上方朝街上看去，仿佛发现那边正发生了什么有趣的事情。随后他拎起一根草杆放在鼻子上，头尽量往后仰着，极力保持着那草杆的平衡。于是，他吃力地左右移动着身体，慢慢地侧身朝那朵三色紫罗兰挪过去。最后，他的光脚落在花上，用灵巧的脚趾头抓住了它，于是，他拿着他心爱的东西，在转弯处消失得无影无踪了。他很快就把那花别在他上衣里面贴近他心脏的地方——也许是贴近他的胃部，因为他不太懂解剖学，好在他也无所谓。    他不久又回到了老地方，在栅栏附近逛来逛去，还像原先那样耍着花样，炫耀着自己，直到天黑。虽然汤姆用一种希望安慰自己，希望她一定在窗子附近，并且已经注意到他的这番殷勤，但是，她再也没露面。后来他终于极不情愿地朝家走去，他那可怜的脑瓜子里充满了各种各样的幻想。    整个吃晚饭期间，他始终情绪高昂。他姨妈不禁感到有些纳闷：“不知这孩子怎么回事。”为了拿泥块砸希德的事，他挨了一顿臭骂，不过，对此他满不在乎。他当着姨妈的面偷糖吃，结果被她用指关节敲了一顿。他说：    “姨妈，希德拿糖吃，您怎么不打他呀。”    “噢，希德可不像你这样磨人。要不是我看得紧，你恨不得钻到糖堆里不出来。”    过了一会，她走到厨房去了；希德因为得到了特权，非常高兴，伸手去拿糖罐——这是故意对汤姆表示得意的一种举动，令汤姆非常难受。可是，希德手一滑，糖罐子掉到地上摔碎了。汤姆简直高兴得要命。但他闭着嘴，一言不发。他心里想他还是什么不说为好，就这么静静地坐着，等他姨妈进来，问这是谁闯的祸，那时他再说出来。看那个模范“宠儿”吃苦头，那真是最大快人心的事。当老太太走进来，站在那儿望着地上的破碎的罐子，从眼镜上面放射出愤怒的火花，他真是高兴到了极点，几乎按捺不住了。他暗自想：“有好戏看了！”可是想不到自己反倒被打翻在地上！那只有力的巴掌举起来正要再打他时，汤姆忍不住大声叫起来：    “住手啊，你凭什么这么狠打我？——是希德打碎了糖罐！”    波莉姨妈住了手，愣了一会儿，汤姆指望她会讲些好话哄他。可是，她开口只说了这么几句：    “唉！我觉得你挨这下子也不屈。刚才，我不在的时候，说不定你又干了些别的胆大妄为的淘气事。”    然后她就受到了良心的谴责，非常想讲几句爱抚体贴的话，可是她断定这么一来，就会被认为她是在认错，这可是规矩所不容的。于是，她一声不吭，忙这忙那，可心乱如麻。汤姆坐在角落处生着气，心里越想越难受，他知道在姨妈心里，她正向他求得谅解，也就因为有这种感觉，虽然闷闷不乐但仍感到满足。他不肯挂出求和的信号，对别的表示也不去理睬。他知道有两道渴望的目光透过泪帘不时地落在他身上，可是他偏不肯表示他已经看出来。他想象着自己躺在那儿病了，快要不行了，他姨妈俯身弯腰看着他，恳求他讲一两句饶恕她的话，可是他转过脸去冲着墙，没说原谅她就死去了。啊，那时她会觉得怎么样呢？他又想象着自己淹死了，被人从河里救起抬回家来，头上的小卷发都湿透了，他那伤透了的心得到了安息。她会多么伤心地扑到他身上，眼泪雨点般地落下来，嘴里不住地祈求上帝把她的孩子还给她，保证将永远、永远不再虐待他了！但是，他却躺在那里浑身冰凉，脸色惨白，毫无动静——一个可怜的人，一个受苦受难的人，终于结束了一切烦恼。他越想就越伤心。后来，为了嗓子不哽塞住，只好把泪水往肚子里咽。他的眼睛被泪水蒙住了，只要眼睛眨，泪水就会淌出来，顺着鼻尖往下掉。他从这种悲伤中获得了无限的安慰和快意，所以这时如果有什么庸俗的愉快或者什么无聊的欢乐来搅乱他的心境的话，他是绝不能忍受的。因为他这种快慰非常圣洁，不该遭到玷污。所以，一会儿之后当他的表姐玛丽手舞足蹈地跑进来的时候，他马上就避开了她。她到乡下去作客，只住了一星期，仿佛时隔三秋似的，她现在又看到自己的家，真是高兴极了。但是，当她唱着歌欢快地从一扇门走进来的时候，汤姆却站起身来乘着阴云暗影从另一扇门溜出去了。    他避开平常孩子们经常玩耍出没的地方，专找适合他此时心情的僻静地方。河里的一条木筏吸引了他，于是，他就在木筏的最外边坐下来，凝视着那单调、茫茫一片的河水，同时又希望自己不经过老天安排的那番痛苦的过程，就一下子不知不觉地淹死。接着，他又想起了他的花，他把花拿出来，那花已经揉皱了，枯萎了，这更大大增加他凄凉而又幸福的情调。他不知道，要是她了解此事，她会不会同情他，她会哭吗？会希望有权抱住他的脖子安慰他吗？还是，她会不会像这个空洞乏味的世界一样，冷漠地掉头不管呢？这种想象给他带来一种苦中有甜的感受，于是，他在脑海里一遍又一遍地重复着这种幻想，反复地多角度地想象着，直到索然无味为止。最后，他终于叹息着站起来，在黑暗中离去。    大约在９点半或１０点左右，他沿着那条没有行人的大街走着，来到那位他“爱慕的不知姓名的人”住的地方。他停下来，竖起耳朵听了一会儿，却什么声音都没有听到。二楼窗户的帘子上映出昏暗的烛光。那位圣洁的人儿在那儿吗？他爬过栅栏，穿过花草，悄悄地一直走到窗户下面才站住。他抬起头来，充满深情地望着窗子，看了很久。然后他在窗下仰卧在地上，双手合在胸前，捧着那朵可怜的、已经枯萎了的花。他情愿就这样死去——在这冷酷无情的世界上，当死神降临的时候，他这无家可归的人儿头上没有一丝遮盖，没有亲友的手来抹去他额上临死的汗珠，也没有慈爱的面孔贴近他来表示惋惜。就这样，当她早晨心情愉快地推开窗户，向外看时，一定会看见他的。哦！她会不会对他那可怜的、没有气息的身体落下哪怕是一小滴的泪珠呢？看见一位前途无量的年轻的生命这样无情地被摧残，这样过早地夭折，她会轻微地长叹一声吗？    窗帘卷了起来，一个女仆的说话声打破了那圣洁的寂静，随即就是一股洪水“哗”地一声泼下来，把这位躺在地上的殉情者的遗体浇得透湿！    这位被水浇得透不过气来的英雄猛地从地上爬起来，喷了喷鼻子，舒服了些。随后，只见有个什么东西混杂着一声轻轻的咒骂声，嗖地一声在空中划过，接下来就听到一阵打碎玻璃的声音，之后，就见一个小小的、模糊的人影翻过栅栏，在朦胧的夜色中箭一般地飞跑了。    不久以后，汤姆脱光衣服上床睡觉。他正借着蜡烛的光亮检查那被泼得透湿的衣服时，希德醒了。他原本有点幸灾乐祸的想法，想要“指桑骂槐”地说几句俏皮话，可是他还是改变了主意，没有出声，因为他看到汤姆眼睛里含有一股杀机。    汤姆连睡前祷告也没做就上床就睡觉了。希德在心里却记下了汤姆偷了一次懒。
Chapter 4
THE sun rose upon a tranquil world, and beamed down upon the peaceful village like a benediction. Breakfast over, Aunt Polly had family worship: it began with a prayer built from the ground up of solid courses of Scriptural quotations, welded together with a thin mortar of originality; and from the summit of this she delivered a grim chapter of the Mosaic Law, as from Sinai.
Then Tom girded up his loins, so to speak, and went to work to "get his verses." Sid had learned his lesson days before. Tom bent all his energies to the memorizing of five verses, and he chose part of the Sermon on the Mount, because he could find no verses that were shorter. At the end of half an hour Tom had a vague general idea of his lesson, but no more, for his mind was traversing the whole field of human thought, and his hands were busy with distracting recreations. Mary took his book to hear him recite, and he tried to find his way through the fog:
"Blessed are the -- a -- a --"
"Poor" --
"Yes -- poor; blessed are the poor -- a -- a --"
"In spirit --"
"In spirit; blessed are the poor in spirit, for they -- they --"
"Theirs --"
"For theirs. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn, for they -- they --"
"Sh --"
"For they -- a --"
"S, H, A --"
"For they S, H -- Oh, I don't know what it is!"
"Shall!"
"Oh, shall! for they shall -- for they shall -- a -- a -- shall mourn -- a-- a -- blessed are they that shall -- they that -- a -- they that shall mourn, for they shall -- a -- shall what? Why don't you tell me, Mary? -- what do you want to be so mean for?"
"Oh, Tom, you poor thick-headed thing, I'm not teasing you. I wouldn't do that. You must go and learn it again. Don't you be discouraged, Tom, you'll manage it -- and if you do, I'll give you something ever so nice. There, now, that's a good boy."
"All right! What is it, Mary, tell me what it is."
"Never you mind, Tom. You know if I say it's nice, it is nice."
"You bet that's so, Mary. All right, I'll tackle it again."
And he did "tackle it again" -- and under the double pressure of curiosity and prospective gain he did it with such spirit that he accomplished a shining success. Mary gave him a brand-new "Barlow" knife worth twelve and a half cents; and the convulsion of delight that swept his system shook him to his foundations. True, the knife would not cut anything, but it was a "sure-enough" Barlow, and there was inconceivable grandeur in that -- though where the Western boys ever got the idea that such a weapon could possibly be counterfeited to its injury is an imposing mystery and will always remain so, perhaps. Tom contrived to scarify the cupboard with it, and was arranging to begin on the bureau, when he was called off to dress for Sunday-school.
Mary gave him a tin basin of water and a piece of soap, and he went outside the door and set the basin on a little bench there; then he dipped the soap in the water and laid it down; turned up his sleeves; poured out the water on the ground, gently, and then entered the kitchen and began to wipe his face diligently on the towel behind the door. But Mary removed the towel and said:
"Now ain't you ashamed, Tom. You mustn't be so bad. Water won't hurt you."
Tom was a trifle disconcerted. The basin was refilled, and this time he stood over it a little while, gathering resolution; took in a big breath and began. When he entered the kitchen presently, with both eyes shut and groping for the towel with his hands, an honorable testimony of suds and water was dripping from his face. But when he emerged from the towel, he was not yet satisfactory, for the clean territory stopped short at his chin and his jaws, like a mask; below and beyond this line there was a dark expanse of unirrigated soil that spread downward in front and backward around his neck. Mary took him in hand, and when she was done with him he was a man and a brother, without distinction of color, and his saturated hair was neatly brushed, and its short curls wrought into a dainty and symmetrical general effect. [He privately smoothed out the curls, with labor and difficulty, and plastered his hair close down to his head; for he held curls to be effeminate, and his own filled his life with bitterness.] Then Mary got out a suit of his clothing that had been used only on Sundays during two years -- they were simply called his "other clothes" -- and so by that we know the size of his wardrobe. The girl "put him to rights" after he had dressed himself; she buttoned his neat roundabout up to his chin, turned his vast shirt collar down over his shoulders, brushed him off and crowned him with his speckled straw hat. He now looked exceedingly improved and uncomfortable. He was fully as uncomfortable as he looked; for there was a restraint about whole clothes and cleanliness that galled him. He hoped that Mary would forget his shoes, but the hope was blighted; she coated them thoroughly with tallow, as was the custom, and brought them out. He lost his temper and said he was always being made to do everything he didn't want to do. But Mary said, persuasively:
"Please, Tom -- that's a good boy."
So he got into the shoes snarling. Mary was soon ready, and the three children set out for Sunday-school -- a place that Tom hated with his whole heart; but Sid and Mary were fond of it.
Sabbath-school hours were from nine to half-past ten; and then church service. Two of the children always remained for the sermon voluntarily, and the other always remained too -- for stronger reasons. The church's high-backed, uncushioned pews would seat about three hundred persons; the edifice was but a small, plain affair, with a sort of pine board tree-box on top of it for a steeple. At the door Tom dropped back a step and accosted a Sunday-dressed comrade:
"Say, Billy, got a yaller ticket?"
"Yes."
"What'll you take for her?"
"What'll you give?"
"Piece of lickrish and a fish-hook."
"Less see 'em."
Tom exhibited. They were satisfactory, and the property changed hands. Then Tom traded a couple of white alleys for three red tickets, and some small trifle or other for a couple of blue ones. He waylaid other boys as they came, and went on buying tickets of various colors ten or fifteen minutes longer. He entered the church, now, with a swarm of clean and noisy boys and girls, proceeded to his seat and started a quarrel with the first boy that came handy. The teacher, a grave, elderly man, interfered; then turned his back a moment and Tom pulled a boy's hair in the next bench, and was absorbed in his book when the boy turned around; stuck a pin in another boy, presently, in order to hear him say "Ouch!" and got a new reprimand from his teacher. Tom's whole class were of a pattern -- restless, noisy, and troublesome. When they came to recite their lessons, not one of them knew his verses perfectly, but had to be prompted all along. However, they worried through, and each got his reward -- in small blue tickets, each with a passage of Scripture on it; each blue ticket was pay for two verses of the recitation. Ten blue tickets equalled a red one, and could be exchanged for it; ten red tickets equalled a yellow one; for ten yellow tickets the superintendent gave a very plainly bound Bible (worth forty cents in those easy times) to the pupil. How many of my readers would have the industry and application to memorize two thousand verses, even for a Dore Bible? And yet Mary had acquired two Bibles in this way -- it was the patient work of two years -- and a boy of German parentage had won four or five. He once recited three thousand verses without stopping; but the strain upon his mental faculties was too great, and he was little better than an idiot from that day forth -- a grievous misfortune for the school, for on great occasions, before company, the superintendent (as Tom expressed it) had always made this boy come out and "spread himself." Only the older pupils managed to keep their tickets and stick to their tedious work long enough to get a Bible, and so the delivery of one of these prizes was a rare and noteworthy circumstance; the successful pupil was so great and conspicuous for that day that on the spot every scholar's heart was fired with a fresh ambition that often lasted a couple of weeks. It is possible that Tom's mental stomach had never really hungered for one of those prizes, but unquestionably his entire being had for many a day longed for the glory and the eclat that came with it.
In due course the superintendent stood up in front of the pulpit, with a closed hymn-book in his hand and his forefinger inserted between its leaves, and commanded attention. When a Sunday-school superintendent makes his customary little speech, a hymn-book in the hand is as necessary as is the inevitable sheet of music in the hand of a singer who stands forward on the platform and sings a solo at a concert -- though why, is a mystery: for neither the hymn-book nor the sheet of music is ever referred to by the sufferer. This superintendent was a slim creature of thirty-five, with a sandy goatee and short sandy hair; he wore a stiff standing-collar whose upper edge almost reached his ears and whose sharp points curved forward abreast the corners of his mouth -- a fence that compelled a straight lookout ahead, and a turning of the whole body when a side view was required; his chin was propped on a spreading cravat which was as broad and as long as a bank-note, and had fringed ends; his boot toes were turned sharply up, in the fashion of the day, like sleigh-runners -- an effect patiently and laboriously produced by the young men by sitting with their toes pressed against a wall for hours together. Mr. Walters was very earnest of mien, and very sincere and honest at heart; and he held sacred things and places in such reverence, and so separated them from worldly matters, that unconsciously to himself his Sunday-school voice had acquired a peculiar intonation which was wholly absent on week-days. He began after this fashion:
"Now, children, I want you all to sit up just as straight and pretty as you can and give me all your attention for a minute or two. There -- that is it. That is the way good little boys and girls should do. I see one little girl who is looking out of the window -- I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere -- perhaps up in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds. [Applausive titter.] I want to tell you how good it makes me feel to see so many bright, clean little faces assembled in a place like this, learning to do right and be good." And so forth and so on. It is not necessary to set down the rest of the oration. It was of a pattern which does not vary, and so it is familiar to us all.
The latter third of the speech was marred by the resumption of fights and other recreations among certain of the bad boys, and by fidgetings and whisperings that extended far and wide, washing even to the bases of isolated and incorruptible rocks like Sid and Mary. But now every sound ceased suddenly, with the subsidence of Mr. Walters' voice, and the conclusion of the speech was received with a burst of silent gratitude.
A good part of the whispering had been occasioned by an event which was more or less rare -- the entrance of visitors: lawyer Thatcher, accompanied by a very feeble and aged man; a fine, portly, middle-aged gentleman with iron-gray hair; and a dignified lady who was doubtless the latter's wife. The lady was leading a child. Tom had been restless and full of chafings and repinings; conscience-smitten, too -- he could not meet Amy Lawrence's eye, he could not brook her loving gaze. But when he saw this small new-comer his soul was all ablaze with bliss in a moment. The next moment he was "showing off" with all his might -- cuffing boys, pulling hair, making faces -- in a word, using every art that seemed likely to fascinate a girl and win her applause. His exaltation had but one alloy -- the memory of his humiliation in this angel's garden -- and that record in sand was fast washing out, under the waves of happiness that were sweeping over it now.
The visitors were given the highest seat of honor, and as soon as Mr. Walters' speech was finished, he introduced them to the school. The middle-aged man turned out to be a prodigious personage -- no less a one than the county judge -- altogether the most august creation these children had ever looked upon -- and they wondered what kind of material he was made of -- and they half wanted to hear him roar, and were half afraid he might, too. He was from Constantinople, twelve miles away -- so he had travelled, and seen the world -- these very eyes had looked upon the county court-house -- which was said to have a tin roof. The awe which these reflections inspired was attested by the impressive silence and the ranks of staring eyes. This was the great Judge Thatcher, brother of their own lawyer. Jeff Thatcher immediately went forward, to be familiar with the great man and be envied by the school. It would have been music to his soul to hear the whisperings:
"Look at him, Jim! He's a going up there. Say -- look! he's a going to shake hands with him -- he is shaking hands with him! By jings, don't you wish you was Jeff?"
Mr. Walters fell to "showing off," with all sorts of official bustlings and activities, giving orders, delivering judgments, discharging directions here, there, everywhere that he could find a target. The librarian "showed off" -- running hither and thither with his arms full of books and making a deal of the splutter and fuss that insect authority delights in. The young lady teachers "showed off" -- bending sweetly over pupils that were lately being boxed, lifting pretty warning fingers at bad little boys and patting good ones lovingly. The young gentlemen teachers "showed off" with small scoldings and other little displays of authority and fine attention to discipline -- and most of the teachers, of both sexes, found business up at the library, by the pulpit; and it was business that frequently had to be done over again two or three times (with much seeming vexation). The little girls "showed off" in various ways, and the little boys "showed off" with such diligence that the air was thick with paper wads and the murmur of scufflings. And above it all the great man sat and beamed a majestic judicial smile upon all the house, and warmed himself in the sun of his own grandeur -- for he was "showing off," too.
There was only one thing wanting to make Mr. Walters' ecstasy complete, and that was a chance to deliver a Bible-prize and exhibit a prodigy. Several pupils had a few yellow tickets, but none had enough -- he had been around among the star pupils inquiring. He would have given worlds, now, to have that German lad back again with a sound mind.
And now at this moment, when hope was dead, Tom Sawyer came forward with nine yellow tickets, nine red tickets, and ten blue ones, and demanded a Bible. This was a thunderbolt out of a clear sky. Walters was not expecting an application from this source for the next ten years. But there was no getting around it -- here were the certified checks, and they were good for their face.Tom was therefore elevated to a place with the Judge and the other elect, and the great news was announced from headquarters. It was the most stunning surprise of the decade, and so profound was the sensation that it lifted the new hero up to the judicial one's altitude, and the school had two marvels to gaze upon in place of one. The boys were all eaten up with envy -- but those that suffered the bitterest pangs were those who perceived too late that they themselves had contributed to this hated splendor by trading tickets to Tom for the wealth he had amassed in selling whitewashing privileges. These despised themselves, as being the dupes of a wily fraud, a guileful snake in the grass.
The prize was delivered to Tom with as much effusion as the superintendent could pump up under the circumstances; but it lacked somewhat of the true gush, for the poor fellow's instinct taught him that there was a mystery here that could not well bear the light, perhaps; it was simply preposterous that this boy had warehoused two thousand sheaves of Scriptural wisdom on his premises -- a dozen would strain his capacity, without a doubt.
Amy Lawrence was proud and glad, and she tried to make Tom see it in her face -- but he wouldn't look. She wondered; then she was just a grain troubled; next a dim suspicion came and went -- came again; she watched; a furtive glance told her worlds -- and then her heart broke, and she was jealous, and angry, and the tears came and she hated everybody. Tom most of all (she thought).
Tom was introduced to the Judge; but his tongue was tied, his breath would hardly come, his heart quaked -- partly because of the awful greatness of the man, but mainly because he was her parent. He would have liked to fall down and worship him, if it were in the dark. The Judge put his hand on Tom's head and called him a fine little man, and asked him what his name was. The boy stammered, gasped, and got it out:
"Tom."
"Oh, no, not Tom -- it is --"
"Thomas."
"Ah, that's it. I thought there was more to it, maybe. That's very well. But you've another one I daresay, and you'll tell it to me, won't you?"
"Tell the gentleman your other name, Thomas," said Walters, "and say sir. You mustn't forget your manners."
"Thomas Sawyer -- sir."
"That's it! That's a good boy. Fine boy. Fine, manly little fellow. Two thousand verses is a great many -- very, very great many. And you never can be sorry for the trouble you took to learn them; for knowledge is worth more than anything there is in the world; it's what makes great men and good men; you'll be a great man and a good man yourself, some day, Thomas, and then you'll look back and say, It's all owing to the precious Sunday-school privileges of my boyhood -- it's all owing to my dear teachers that taught me to learn -- it's all owing to the good superintendent, who encouraged me, and watched over me, and gave me a beautiful Bible -- a splendid elegant Bible -- to keep and have it all for my own, always -- it's all owing to right bringing up! That is what you will say, Thomas -- and you wouldn't take any money for those two thousand verses -- no indeed you wouldn't. And now you wouldn't mind telling me and this lady some of the things you've learned -- no, I know you wouldn't -- for we are proud of little boys that learn. Now, no doubt you know the names of all the twelve disciples. Won't you tell us the names of the first two that were appointed?"
Tom was tugging at a button-hole and looking sheepish. He blushed, now, and his eyes fell. Mr. Walters' heart sank within him. He said to himself, it is not possible that the boy can answer the simplest question -- why did the Judge ask him? Yet he felt obliged to speak up and say:
"Answer the gentleman, Thomas -- don't be afraid."
Tom still hung fire.
"Now I know you'll tell me," said the lady. "The names of the first two disciples were --"
"DAVID AND GOLIAH!"
Let us draw the curtain of charity over the rest of the scene.  
第四章　主日学校，风头出尽     太阳升起来，照在宁静的世界上，静静的村庄仿佛沐浴在圣光之中。早饭过后，波莉姨妈做了祷告。开始的一篇祷告词完全是从《圣经》中引用来的，其中还掺杂着星星点点的新意。两者勉强地被粘合在一起，这种粘合做得就像她是从西奈山顶宣布了“摩西律”中严酷的一段。    然后，汤姆好像是振作了精神，一本正经地着手去背那一段一段的《圣经》了。希德几天前就把他该背的段落记牢了。汤姆花费了所有的精力，全力以赴在背五段《圣经》内容。他选择的是基督《登山宝训》的一部分，因为这部分是全文中最短的部分。快到半个小时的时候，他对要背的内容已有了一个模模糊糊的印象。不过，仅此而已，因为他此刻已经心不在焉，胡思乱想，两手不停地忙着一些无关紧要的东西。玛丽拿着他的书，要听他背诵，他就竭力地云来雾去地往下背：    “有福的人是……呃——呃——”    “穷乏——”    “对——穷乏；有福的人是穷人……呃——呃——”    “精神上——”    “在精神上；有福的人是精神上的贫乏者，因为他们——他们——”    “他们的——”    “因为他们的。有福的人是精神上的贫乏者，因为他们的是天国。有福的人是那些哀恸的人，因为他们——他们——”    “将——”    “因为他们……呃——”    “将——”    “因为他们将——，下面我记不得了！”    “将要——”    “欧！将要！因为他们将要——因为他们将要——呃——呃——将要哀恸——呃——呃——被保佑的是那些将要——那些将要——呃——那些将要哀恸的人，因为他们将要——呃——将要什么？玛丽，为什么不提示我？——你干吗要这样小气？”    “哦，汤姆，你这个可怜的小笨蛋。我可不是在拿你开玩笑。我不愿逗你。你必须再去重新背。汤姆，你可别灰心丧气，你会背来的——如果你背熟了，我会给你些好玩的东西。哎，对了，这才是个好孩子。”    “好吧！给我什么，玛丽？告诉我是什么好玩的东西。”    “这你用不着问，汤姆，我说好玩，就是好玩的东西。”    “你可得讲话算话呀，玛丽。那好吧，我就再去好好地背一背。”    后来他真的“好好地背”了——在好奇心和获得奖品的希望的双重诱惑下，他精神十足地学了一阵，结果居然获得了辉煌的胜利。玛丽给了他一把价值１角２分半的崭新的“巴露牌”小刀。他欣喜若狂，手舞足蹈。说真的，这把刀切不了任何东西，但它是“千真万确”的“巴露牌”，这可是意味着一种极大的荣耀——虽然西部的孩子们居然认为这种刀器也有可能被冒牌，会损伤它的名誉，这个谜令人印象深刻，也许永远都是如此。汤姆拿这把刀在碗橱上乱刻了一阵，正准备在衣柜上动手的时候，却被唤去换衣服，准备上主日学校。    玛丽递给他一脸盆水和一块肥皂。于是，他走到门外，把脸盆放在那儿的一个小凳子上。然后他把肥皂蘸了点水，又把它放下；他卷起袖子，轻轻地把水泼在地上，转身走进厨房，用门后面的一条毛巾使劲地擦着脸。可是，玛丽拿开毛巾，说道：    “嘿，你不害臊吗？汤姆！你可千万别这么没治了。水不会伤着你的。”    汤姆有点不自在。脸盆重新又盛满了水，这一回，他下定决心俯身在脸盆边站了一会，然后深深吸了一口气，就开始洗脸。不久，他走进厨房，闭着眼睛伸手去摸那条毛巾，脸上的肥皂水直往下淌，算是他老老实实洗过脸的证明。可是，当他拿开毛巾，露出脸时，还是不能让人满意。因为洗干净的地方只局限于两腮帮子和下巴上面，看上去像个假面具似的。在下巴以下和腮帮子两旁，还有很大一片没有沾过水，黑乎乎的，从脖子一直往下，往后伸展。玛丽又拉过他来帮他收拾。她把他梳洗打扮完毕之后，他看起来才像个男人，像个兄弟，脸再也不是白一块黑一块了，那湿透了的头发也梳得整整齐齐，短短的卷发还弄成了挺好看的对称样式。（他曾费了很大的劲，偷偷地把满头的鬈发按着，紧紧地贴在头上。因为他认定鬈发总有些女人气，他为自己天生的鬈发十分懊恼。）后来，玛丽把他的一套衣服拿出来，这套衣服已穿了两年，只有星期天才穿——干脆就叫“那套衣服”——由此我们可以知道他的穿戴方面的全部衣物共有多少。他自己穿戴之后，那姑娘又帮他“整理”了一番。她把他那件整洁的上装的衣扣统统扣上，一直扣到下巴底下，又把他那个宽大的衬衣领子往下一翻，搭在两边的肩上，再给他刷得干干净净，戴上他那顶有点点的草帽。这一下子他显得极漂亮，也极不舒服，他看上去一点也不舒服。因为穿上衣服还要保持整洁，对他是种拘束，所以他心里很烦躁。他希望玛丽别让他穿鞋子，可这希望落了空。她按照当时的习惯，先给鞋子抹了一层蜡油，然后拿了出来。他发火了，埋怨别人老是让他干他自己不愿意干的事情，可是，玛丽却劝他道：    “汤姆，——这才是个好孩子哪。”    于是，汤姆一边大喊大叫，一边穿上了那双鞋。玛丽也很快地作好了准备，三个孩子就一块动身去主日学校——那地方是汤姆最深恶痛绝的；但是，希德和玛丽却非常喜欢那里。    主日学校的上课时间是从９点到１０点半；之后，就是做礼拜。他们三个中间有两个总是自觉自愿地留在那儿听牧师布道，而另外一个因为更重要原因也是每次都留下来。教堂里的座位靠背很高，没有垫子，一共可坐三百人。教堂是一座简陋的、规模不大的建筑。屋顶上安了一个松木板做的盒子似的装置当做尖塔。在门口，汤姆故意放慢一步，跟一个穿着星期天服装的同伴打了招呼：    “喂，贝利，你有黄色票吗？”    “有啊。”    “你要什么东西才换呢？”    “你准备用什么换？”    “一块糖和一个钓鱼钩。”    “东西呢？”    汤姆就拿出来给他看了。贝利对这两样东西很满意，于是，双方的财物易了主。接着，汤姆用两个白石头子换了三张红票，又用其它一些小玩意换了两张蓝票。当其他的孩子走过来时，汤姆又拦住他们，继续收买各色各样的票。这样换了有十几分钟，汤姆才和一群穿着整齐、吵吵嚷嚷的男孩和女孩一起走进教堂。汤姆走到自己的座位上，和一个离他最近的男孩争吵起来。他们的老师是位面色严肃、上了年纪的人，他叫他俩别闹，然后就转过身去了。汤姆又揪了另一条板凳上一个男孩的头发，那男孩转过头时，他却在全神贯注地在看书。接着为了要听另一个男孩子叫一声“哎唷！”他又用一枚别针扎了他一下，结果被老师臭骂了一顿。汤姆所在的这个班全是一个模式——吵吵闹闹，东捣西戳，一刻不停。他们一起背诵经文时，没有一个能完整记住的，都必须不断地给予提示才行。然而，他们还是勉强过了关，个个都得了奖——蓝色的小纸票，每张票上都印有一段《圣经》上的话。要背两段《圣经》经文才能得这么样一张蓝色纸票。十张蓝色票等于一张红色票，也可以互换。十张红色票又可以换一张黄色票。如果得了十张黄色票，校长就奖励给这个学生一本简装的《圣经》（在当初日子好过的那个时候，值４角钱）。我亲爱的读者们当中，有多少人肯这么用功，费劲去背上两千段《圣经》经文来换取一本多莱版的《圣经》呢？然而玛丽却用这种方法得了两本《圣经》——那可是两年之久的耐心学习的代价——还有一个德国血统的男孩得了四五本。他曾一下子背诵了三千段《圣经》。可是由于他脑力的过度劳累，自此以后差不多成了一个白痴——这是主日学校的重大不幸，因为每逢盛大的场面，在许多来宾面前（据汤姆的讲法），校长总是叫这个男孩出来“露一手”。只有那些年龄大的学生才坚持努力用功，想法得票，为的是获取一本《圣经》。所以，每次颁发这种奖品都是件稀罕而轰动的大事。    得奖的同学在当时显得那样的伟大，那样的光荣，以致每个在场的学生心里都产生新的野心，这种野心往往要持续一两个星期之久。汤姆内心可能从来没有真正渴望过获得这种奖品，不过，毫无疑问，许多天以来他的全部身心都在渴望得到随着这种奖励而来的光彩和荣誉。    等到一定的时候，校长在布道台前面站了起来，他手里拿着一本合上的圣诗，食指夹在书页中间，叫大家静下来，听他讲道。主日学校的校长开始他那简短的开场白时，手中总少不了要拿着一本圣诗，就像歌手参加音乐会时站在演唱台，开始独唱的时候一样，手中也少不了要拿本乐谱——虽然谁也不知道为什么要这样。因为无论圣诗也好，乐谱也好，台上受罪的那个人从来都不会用得上这些的。这位校长是个３５岁的瘦子，蓄着沙滩色的山羊胡和沙滩色的短头发；他穿着一副硬挺挺的衣服领子，领边几乎顶到他耳边，两个尖尖的领角顺着脖子弯过来，齐到他的嘴角——就像一堵围墙似的，逼着他只能往前方看，每当他要看旁边的时候，就不得不把整个身子都转过来；他的下巴托在一条宽大的领结上面，那个领结就像一张支票那样又宽又长，周围还带有花边。他的靴子头尖尖的，向上翘着，这在当时非常时髦，好像雪橇下面翘起来的滑刀一样——这种时新式样是年青人耐心地、吃力地一连几个钟头地坐着把脚趾拼命顶着墙的结果。华尔特先生态度非常庄重，心地虔诚而实在。他对宗教方面的事情和场所非常尊敬，把它们和世俗方面的事分得清清楚楚。因此尽管没有意识到，但他却养成了主日学校讲话时一种特别的语调，这种语调在平常的日子里是绝对听不到的。他就用这种语调开始说起来：    “孩子们，现在我要你们都尽量地、端端正正地坐起来，集中注意力听我讲一两分钟的话。对——做得好。好小孩子们就该这样做。我看见一个小姑娘在向窗外看——我想她一定认为我是在外面的某个地方——也许想着我在给树上的小鸟作演讲吧，（一阵嘻嘻哈哈的喝彩声。）我想告诉你们看到这么多聪明的、干干净净的小脸儿聚集在这样的地方，听话、学好，我心里是多么的高兴。”等等、等等诸如此类的话。下面讲的话我就不必一一写下了。反正是些千佛一面大家都熟悉的东西。华尔特先生的演说到后面三分之一时受到了一些干扰，因为一些坏孩子又打起架来或搞别的小动作，满堂都在扭头讲悄悄话。连玛丽和希德这样巍然屹立，不易摧毁的“中流砥柱”也受到了冲击。随着华尔特先生的声音突然终止，课堂里的一切吵闹声也都随之嘎然止住，大家突然静下来，以此来表达对演说结束的感激之情。    刚才那阵子的窃窃私语主要是由一件多少有些稀罕的事情引起的——那就是来了几位来访者：有撒切尔律师，他由一个非常衰弱的老人陪伴；一位文雅、肥胖、满头铁灰色头发的中年绅士；还有一位贵夫人，她无疑是那位绅士的太太。这位夫人手里还牵着一个小孩。汤姆心里一直很不安，心里充满了烦恼和忧愁；而且还受到良心的谴责——他不敢正视艾美·劳伦斯的眼睛，她那含情的注目简直使他受不了。可是当他看见这位新来的小女孩，他的心里立刻燃起了幸福的火焰。接着他就拚命地卖弄炫耀——打别人的耳光，揪头发，做鬼脸——总而言之，凡是可能引起女孩注意，获取她欢心和赞赏的把戏，他都用了。想到在这个小天使家花园受到的那种非人的待遇，他高兴的劲头凉了一截，不过快得就像留在沙滩上的印迹一样，被幸福的浪潮一冲，就被冲得一干二净。    这几位来访者被请到最上席就座，华尔特先生刚刚结束讲话，就向全校师生介绍了这几位贵宾。那位中年人原来是个不平凡的大人物——竟是县上的法官——他是这些孩子们所见过的最威严的人物——他们很想知道他是由什么做的——他们一方面很想听听他吼叫两声，可是另一方面又相当害怕他吼叫。他是离这儿十二哩远的康士坦丁堡镇人——因此他是出过远门、见过世面的人——他那双眼睛曾见过县上的法庭——据说那所房子的屋顶是用锡皮做的。想到这些，他让人觉得畏惧，这从他那令人难忘的沉默和一排排瞪着的眼睛可以看得出来。这就是了不起的撒切尔大法官，是他们镇上律师的哥哥。杰夫·撒切尔立即走上前，和这位大人物亲近，真让全校师生羡慕、嫉妒。听大家切切私语，他就像听见音乐一般，心情舒畅。    “吉姆，你看！他上讲台了。嘿——瞧！他要和他握手啦——他真的和他握手了！哎呀，你不希望自己就是杰夫吗？”    华尔特先生开始“出风头”了，他一副官样，到处发号施令，表示意见，给予指导，忙得他不亦乐乎。只要他发现目标，免不了都要唠叨几句。图书管理员也“卖弄”了一番——他手里抱着许多本书，嘴里咕咕哝哝，到处跑动，忙个不停。他这种举动起码让那位小权威人物开心。年轻的女教师们也“炫耀”了一番——亲切地弯下腰看着那些刚被打过耳光的学生，伸出漂亮的手指对着那些不听话的孩子以示警告，或者和蔼可亲地拍拍那些乖孩子。年轻的男教师们也“出了一番风头”，他们小声地骂一骂学生，还用别的表示享有权威和重视校规的方式表现了自己——所有男男女女的教师们都在布道台旁的图书室那儿找到可干的事情。这种事情只干一次就可以了，他们却反复干了两三次（表面上装出很着急的样子）。小姑娘们也用各种方式“卖弄”，男孩子“卖弄”得更是劲头十足，于是，空中满是乱飞的纸团，教室里互相扭打的声音不断。尤其是，那位坐在台上的大人，面带庄严的微笑，一副高高在上的样子，望着全场，这种优越感令其陶然——因为他自己也在“炫耀”啊。    这时候只差一件事情，就能使华尔特先生狂喜到极点，那就是他非常想有一个机会给某个学生颁发一本《圣经》，借以展示一下自己。有几个学生拥有一些黄色票，可没有一个够数的——他在几个明星学生中间转了一圈，问了问。假如，这时候能叫那个德国血统曾经出色过的学生脑子健全起来，再能表演一回，他真情愿付出所有的一切。    希望眼看就要落空了，就在这个时候，汤姆·索亚却走上前来，手里拿着九张黄票、九张红票和十张蓝票，请求得到一本《圣经》。这真是晴天霹雳。再过十年，华尔特先生也不会料想竟是这个宝贝来提出申请。可是又无法推脱——票面都不假，按照规定都该是有效的。于是，汤姆有幸与法官和其他几位贵宾们坐在一起，这个重大的消息就从首脑席上公布于众了。这是十年来最令人吃惊的事情，全场大为轰动，把这位新英雄的地位抬高得和法官老爷相等。这下子学校的人们瞪着眼睛看的是两位而不是一位了不起的人物了。男孩子们更是忌妒得咬牙切齿——可是最懊悔的还是那些用背《圣经》得来的条子跟汤姆换他出卖刷墙特权时所积攒下的财宝的孩子们。为了汤姆这些宝贝玩意，他们给了汤姆这些条子，这帮了他大忙，使他获得了这种令人气愤的荣誉。可是，现在才发现，后悔已经晚了。这些孩子们现在才明白他们的对手是个诡计多端的骗子，是一条藏在草里狡诈的蛇，而他们自己却是上了当的大傻瓜，因此他们都觉得自惭形秽。    校长给汤姆发奖的时候，为了应付这种场合，他尽量找出一些赞美表扬的话来说。可是从他话里听出好像没有多少是发自他内心的热忱，因为这位可怜的人的本能告诉他，这里面也许潜藏着某种见不得人的秘密。这孩子脑子里真的能装下两千段圣书里的经文，真会让人笑掉大牙——因为毫无疑问，十几段经文就够他受的了。    艾美·劳伦斯既得意又自豪，她想方设法地要汤姆看出这点来——可是，汤姆偏不朝她这边看。她搞不清这是怎么回事，接着她有点儿慌张，然后隐隐约约又有点怀疑，很快疑虑消除了——跟着又怀疑起来。她注视了他一会儿，当看到汤姆偷偷地瞟了新来的女孩子一眼时，这才恍然大悟——于是她心碎了，忌妒了，非常恼火，跟着眼泪也流了出来。她恨所有的人，最恨最恨的是汤姆（她心里想）。    汤姆被校长介绍给法官大人，可是，他的舌头打了结，气也喘不过来，心也跳得厉害——一半是因为这位大人物的威严，一半则因为他是她的父亲。如果现在是夜晚，是在黑暗中，他简直就要向他下跪膜拜了。大法官把手放在汤姆的头上，说他是个好小伙子，还问他叫什么名字。这孩子结结巴巴，喘气困难，勉强答道：    “汤姆。”    “哦，不对，不是汤姆——应该是——”    “托马斯。”    “喔，这就对了。我想应该还有一半吧，也许该有，这很好。不过，我肯定你还有一个姓，你告诉我，好不好？”“托马斯，告诉法官大人你姓什么！”华尔特先生赶忙说，“还要称呼先生，你可别忘了礼貌呀。”    “托马斯·索亚——先生。”    “这就对了！这才是个好孩子。很不错的小伙子。不错，有出息。两千段的圣书经文可真不少——实在，实在是够多的。你花了那么多精力来背诵这些经文，你一辈子也不会后悔的，因为知识是宝贵的，比世上一切财富都有价值。有了知识，你就能成为伟人，成为好人；托马斯，等将来有一天，当你回首往事时，你会说，一切都归功于我儿时所上的主日学校——归功于我亲爱的老师们教给我的那些知识——归功于我的好校长，他鼓励我，督促我，还给了我一本漂亮的《圣经》——一本漂亮而精美的《圣经》——让我自己永远保留——这一切多亏了我的老师们教导有方啊！将来你会这么说的，托马斯——你那两千段经文别人无论给你多少钱，你也不会卖吧！——你肯定不会卖的。现在把你学过的内容说给我和这位太太听听，你该不会介意吧——不会的，我知道你不会在乎的——因为我们是非常赞赏有知识有学问的孩子。那么，不用问，你肯定知道所有十二门徒的名字，就把耶稣最初选定的两个门徒的名字告诉我们，好不好？”    汤姆捏住一个钮扣眼使劲地拉，样子显得很害羞。他的脸一下子涨得通红，眼皮也垂了下来。华尔特先生的心也随之一沉。他心里想，这个孩子连最简单的问题都不可能回答出来——为什么法官偏要问他？然而他又不得不开口，说道：    “托马斯，回答法官大人的问题——不要害怕。”    汤姆仍旧不肯开口。    “好吧，我知道你会跟我讲，”那位太太说。“最初的两个门徒的名字是——”    “大卫和哥利亚斯——”    这幕戏不能再往下看了，我们还是发发慈悲就此闭幕吧。
Chapter 5
ABOUT half-past ten the cracked bell of the small church began to ring, and presently the people began to gather for the morning sermon. The Sunday-school children distributed themselves about the house and occupied pews with their parents, so as to be under supervision. Aunt Polly came, and Tom and Sid and Mary sat with her -- Tom being placed next the aisle, in order that he might be as far away from the open window and the seductive outside summer scenes as possible. The crowd filed up the aisles: the aged and needy postmaster, who had seen better days; the mayor and his wife -- for they had a mayor there, among other unnecessaries; the justice of the peace; the widow Douglass, fair, smart, and forty, a generous, good-hearted soul and well-to-do, her hill mansion the only palace in the town, and the most hospitable and much the most lavish in the matter of festivities that St. Petersburg could boast; the bent and venerable Major and Mrs. Ward; lawyer Riverson, the new notable from a distance; next the belle of the village, followed by a troop of lawn-clad and ribbon-decked young heart-breakers; then all the young clerks in town in a body -- for they had stood in the vestibule sucking their cane-heads, a circling wall of oiled and simpering admirers, till the last girl had run their gantlet; and last of all came the Model Boy, Willie Mufferson, taking as heedful care of his mother as if she were cut glass. He always brought his mother to church, and was the pride of all the matrons. The boys all hated him, he was so good. And besides, he had been "thrown up to them" so much. His white handkerchief was hanging out of his pocket behind, as usual on Sundays -- accidentally. Tom had no handkerchief, and he looked upon boys who had as snobs.
The congregation being fully assembled, now, the bell rang once more, to warn laggards and stragglers, and then a solemn hush fell upon the church which was only broken by the tittering and whispering of the choir in the gallery. The choir always tittered and whispered all through service. There was once a church choir that was not ill-bred, but I have forgotten where it was, now. It was a great many years ago, and I can scarcely remember anything about it, but I think it was in some foreign country. The minister gave out the hymn, and read it through with a relish, in a peculiar style which was much admired in that part of the country. His voice began on a medium key and climbed steadily up till it reached a certain point, where it bore with strong emphasis upon the topmost word and then plunged down as if from a spring-board:
Shall I be car-ri-ed toe the skies, on flow'ry beds of ease,
Whilst others fight to win the prize, and sail thro' blood-y seas?
He was regarded as a wonderful reader. At church "sociables" he was always called upon to read poetry; and when he was through, the ladies would lift up their hands and let them fall helplessly in their laps, and "wall" their eyes, and shake their heads, as much as to say, "Words cannot express it; it is too beautiful, too beautiful for this mortal earth."
After the hymn had been sung, the Rev. Mr. Sprague turned himself into a bulletin-board, and read off "notices" of meetings and societies and things till it seemed that the list would stretch out to the crack of doom -- a queer custom which is still kept up in America, even in cities, away here in this age of abundant newspapers. Often, the less there is to justify a traditional custom, the harder it is to get rid of it.
And now the minister prayed. A good, generous prayer it was, and went into details: it pleaded for the church, and the little children of the church; for the other churches of the village; for the village itself; for the county; for the State; for the State officers; for the United States; for the churches of the United States; for Congress; for the President; for the officers of the Government; for poor sailors, tossed by stormy seas; for the oppressed millions groaning under the heel of European monarchies and Oriental despotisms; for such as have the light and the good tidings, and yet have not eyes to see nor ears to hear withal; for the heathen in the far islands of the sea; and closed with a supplication that the words he was about to speak might find grace and favor, and be as seed sown in fertile ground, yielding in time a grateful harvest of good. Amen.
There was a rustling of dresses, and the standing congregation sat down. The boy whose history this book relates did not enjoy the prayer, he only endured it -- if he even did that much. He was restive all through it; he kept tally of the details of the prayer, unconsciously -- for he was not listening, but he knew the ground of old, and the clergyman's regular route over it -- and when a little trifle of new matter was interlarded, his ear detected it and his whole nature resented it; he considered additions unfair, and scoundrelly. In the midst of the prayer a fly had lit on the back of the pew in front of him and tortured his spirit by calmly rubbing its hands together, embracing its head with its arms, and polishing it so vigorously that it seemed to almost part company with the body, and the slender thread of a neck was exposed to view; scraping its wings with its hind legs and smoothing them to its body as if they had been coat-tails; going through its whole toilet as tranquilly as if it knew it was perfectly safe. As indeed it was; for as sorely as Tom's hands itched to grab for it they did not dare -- he believed his soul would be instantly destroyed if he did such a thing while the prayer was going on. But with the closing sentence his hand began to curve and steal forward; and the instant the "Amen" was out the fly was a prisoner of war. His aunt detected the act and made him let it go.
The minister gave out his text and droned along monotonously through an argument that was so prosy that many a head by and by began to nod -- and yet it was an argument that dealt in limitless fire and brimstone and thinned the predestined elect down to a company so small as to be hardly worth the saving. Tom counted the pages of the sermon; after church he always knew how many pages there had been, but he seldom knew anything else about the discourse. However, this time he was really interested for a little while. The minister made a grand and moving picture of the assembling together of the world's hosts at the millennium when the lion and the lamb should lie down together and a little child should lead them. But the pathos, the lesson, the moral of the great spectacle were lost upon the boy; he only thought of the conspicuousness of the principal character before the on-looking nations; his face lit with the thought, and he said to himself that he wished he could be that child, if it was a tame lion.
Now he lapsed into suffering again, as the dry argument was resumed. Presently he bethought him of a treasure he had and got it out. It was a large black beetle with formidable jaws -- a "pinchbug," he called it. It was in a percussion-cap box. The first thing the beetle did was to take him by the finger. A natural fillip followed, the beetle went floundering into the aisle and lit on its back, and the hurt finger went into the boy's mouth. The beetle lay there working its helpless legs, unable to turn over. Tom eyed it, and longed for it; but it was safe out of his reach. Other people uninterested in the sermon found relief in the beetle, and they eyed it too. Presently a vagrant poodle dog came idling along, sad at heart, lazy with the summer softness and the quiet, weary of captivity, sighing for change. He spied the beetle; the drooping tail lifted and wagged. He surveyed the prize; walked around it; smelt at it from a safe distance; walked around it again; grew bolder, and took a closer smell; then lifted his lip and made a gingerly snatch at it, just missing it; made another, and another; began to enjoy the diversion; subsided to his stomach with the beetle between his paws, and continued his experiments; grew weary at last, and then indifferent and absent-minded. His head nodded, and little by little his chin descended and touched the enemy, who seized it. There was a sharp yelp, a flirt of the poodle's head, and the beetle fell a couple of yards away, and lit on its back once more. The neighboring spectators shook with a gentle inward joy, several faces went behind fans and handkerchiefs, and Tom was entirely happy. The dog looked foolish, and probably felt so; but there was resentment in his heart, too, and a craving for revenge. So he went to the beetle and began a wary attack on it again; jumping at it from every point of a circle, lighting with his fore-paws within an inch of the creature, making even closer snatches at it with his teeth, and jerking his head till his ears flapped again. But he grew tired once more, after a while; tried to amuse himself with a fly but found no relief; followed an ant around, with his nose close to the floor, and quickly wearied of that; yawned, sighed, forgot the beetle entirely, and sat down on it. Then there was a wild yelp of agony and the poodle went sailing up the aisle; the yelps continued, and so did the dog; he crossed the house in front of the altar; he flew down the other aisle; he crossed before the doors; he clamored up the home-stretch; his anguish grew with his progress, till presently he was but a woolly comet moving in its orbit with the gleam and the speed of light. At last the frantic sufferer sheered from its course, and sprang into its master's lap; he flung it out of the window, and the voice of distress quickly thinned away and died in the distance.
By this time the whole church was red-faced and suffocating with suppressed laughter, and the sermon had come to a dead standstill. The discourse was resumed presently, but it went lame and halting, all possibility of impressiveness being at an end; for even the gravest sentiments were constantly being received with a smothered burst of unholy mirth, under cover of some remote pew-back, as if the poor parson had said a rarely facetious thing. It was a genuine relief to the whole congregation when the ordeal was over and the benediction pronounced.
Tom Sawyer went home quite cheerful, thinking to himself that there was some satisfaction about divine service when there was a bit of variety in it. He had but one marring thought; he was willing that the dog should play with his pinchbug, but he did not think it was upright in him to carry it off.  
第五章　礼拜添花样，大钳甲虫戏小狗
    大约１０点３０分的时候，小教堂的破钟开始响了起来，随即大家便聚集在一起听上午的布道。主日学校的孩子们各随各的父母坐在教堂里，为的是好受他们的监督。波莉姨妈来了，汤姆、希德和玛丽在她旁边坐下来。汤姆被安排在靠近过道的位子上坐着，为的是尽可能和开着的窗户及外面诱人的夏日景物离得远一些。人们簇拥着顺着过道往里走：有上了年纪的贫苦的邮政局局长，他曾经是过过好日子的；有镇长和他的太太——这地方竟然还有个镇长，这和其他许多没有必要的摆设一样；有治安法官；有道格拉斯寡妇，她４０来岁，长得小巧而美丽，为人宽厚，慷慨大方而又心地善良，生活还算富裕，她山上的住宅是镇上唯一漂亮讲究的，可算得上殿堂，每逢节庆日，她可是圣彼德堡镇上人们引以为荣的最热情好客、最乐善好施的人；有驼背的、德高望重的华德少校和他的夫人；还有维尔逊律师，一位远道而来的新贵客。再下面就是镇上的大美人，后面跟着一大帮穿细麻布衣服、扎着缎带的、让人害单相思病的年轻姑娘。跟在她们后里的是镇上所有年轻的店员和职员，他们一涌而进——原来他们是一群如痴如醉的爱慕者，开始都站在门廊里，嘬着自己的手指头，围在那儿站成一道墙似的，一直到最后一个姑娘走出他们的包围圈为止。最后进来的一位是村里的模范儿童威利·莫夫逊，他对他母亲照顾得无微不至，就好像她是件易碎的雕花玻璃品似的。他总是领着他妈妈到教堂来，其他的妈妈都引以为豪。而男孩子们都恨他，因为他太乘巧，太听话。况且他常被人夸奖，让他们觉得难堪。他白色的手绢搭拉在屁股口袋的外面，星期天也不例外——偶而有次把除外。汤姆没有手绢，他鄙视那些有手绢的孩子们，把他们看作是故作姿态的势利小人。    听布道的人到齐后，大钟又响了一遍，为的是提醒那些迟到的和在外面乱跑的人。教堂里一片寂静，显得十分庄严，只有边座席上唱诗班里有些低声嘻笑和说话的声音，打破了这种寂静，而且自始至终整个布道过程，唱诗班里一直有人在窃窃私语，低声说笑。曾有过一个唱诗班不像这样没教养，可是我忘记那是在什么地方了。这是许多年以前的事了，我几乎对那些事没有印象了，不过，我想大概是在外国吧。    牧师把大家要唱的歌颂主的歌词拿了出来，津津有味地念了一遍，他那特别的腔调在那地区是受人欢迎的。他的音量先由中音部开始，逐渐升高，一直升到最高音的一个字，强调了一下，然后就像从跳板上跳下来一样，突然降低：    为获功勋别人正浴血奋战    在沙场    我岂能安睡花床梦想    进天堂    大家一致认为他的朗诵很精彩，很美妙。在教堂的“联欢会”上，他经常被请来给大家朗诵诗文，每当他念完之后，妇女们都要举起双手，然后软绵绵地把手落下来，放在膝上，一面“转溜”着眼睛，一面摇头，好像在说：“这简直是语言无法形容的，太美了，这样动听的声音在这凡俗的人世间实在是太难得了。”    唱完颂主歌之后，牧师斯普拉格先生就把自己变成了一块布告牌，开始宣布一些集会和团体的通知之类的事情，他一直说个没完，似乎他要宣布事情就得讲个不停直到世界末日霹雳声响时才停止——这是一种很奇怪的习惯，至今在美国还保留着，甚至在当今新闻报纸很多的城市里还没有改变这种习惯。通常传统习俗越是没有多少理由存在，越很难消除它。    再后来牧师就做祷告了。这是一篇很好的、内容丰富的祷告词，面面俱到：它为教堂和里面的孩子们祈祷；为全县向主求福；为漂泊在狂风暴雨的海洋上可怜的水手们求福；为被迫在欧洲君主制度和东方专制制度铁蹄下呻吟着的数万劳苦大众求福；为那些有了教主的光和福音而熟视无睹、充耳不闻的人求福；为远处海岛上的那些异帮教徒求福；最后牧师祈求天主恩准他所说的话，希望他的话像播种在肥沃土地里的种子一样，将会开花结果，造福无穷。阿门。    站着的人们在一片衣服的沙沙声中都坐了下来。这本书里讲述的主人公并不欣赏这篇祷告词，他只是忍受着罢了，能忍受就算不错了。他在祈祷过程中，一直不安分。他记录下祷告词的详细内容，不过是无意识地这么做——因为他没有听，但是他熟悉牧师先生惯弹的老调，惯用的陈词罢了——每当祷告词里加进一点新内容时，他的耳朵立刻就能辨别出来，而且浑身上下都不舒服。他认为加进去的太不合适，也不光明正大，简直是在耍无赖。在祈祷做到半中间的时候，有一只苍蝇落在他前面的座椅靠背上，它不慌不忙地搓着腿，伸出胳膊抱住头，用劲地擦着脑袋，它的头几乎好像要和身子分家似的，脖子细的像根线，露出来看得清清楚楚。它又用后腿拨弄翅膀，把翅膀向身上拉平，好像翅膀是它礼服的后摆；它不紧不慢，自在逍遥地老在那儿做着一全套梳妆打扮的动作，似乎很清楚自己是绝对安全的。这只苍蝇的逍遥劲让汤姆心里难受极了。那小东西的确很安全，因为当汤姆两手发痒，慢慢地移过去想抓它时，又停住了，他不敢——他相信在做祷告时干这种事情，他的灵魂立刻就会遭到毁灭的。可是，当祷告讲到最后一句时，他弓着手背悄悄地向苍蝇靠过去，“阿门”刚一说出口，苍蝇就做了阶下囚。他姨妈发现后让他把苍蝇放掉了。    牧师宣布了布道词引用的《圣经》章节，接着就单调乏味地进行施道，如此平淡啰嗦以致于有许多人渐渐地低下头打瞌睡——他的布道词里讲了数不清的各种各样的地狱里的刑罚，让人有种感觉，能够有资格让上帝选入天堂的真是为数极少，几乎不值得拯救了。汤姆计算着祷告词的页数，做完礼拜他总能说出牧师经文的页数，至于内容他是很少知道。然而这一回却不同：他对内容真有点感兴趣了。牧师描绘了幅辉煌而动人的画面：千年至福时期全世界各族人民团聚在一起，狮子和羊羔躺在一起，由一个孩子领着它们。可是这伟大的场面没有一点感动汤姆，他关注的是那里面的人物在成千上万的人们面前所显出的惹人注目的神气。想到这里，他的脸上露出喜色。他暗自想如果那头狮子驯服不吃人的话，他很愿意自己就是那孩子。    当牧师继续枯燥无味地往下讲道时，汤姆重新又陷入了痛苦之中。立刻他想起了他的一个宝贝玩意，赶快把它拿了出来。那是一只下巴骨长得可怕的大黑甲虫——他叫它“大钳甲虫”。这只甲虫是装在雷管筒子里。它一被放出来，就咬汤姆的手指。他很自然地弹了一下手指，那甲虫就滚到过道里，仰面朝天，无奈地弹动着它那几条腿，翻不了身。汤姆把被咬痛的手指放到嘴里，眼巴巴地看着“大钳甲虫”，很想把它抓回来，可是他怎么也够不到。其他的人对牧师的布道也不感兴趣，就拿这只甲虫来解闷，他们也盯着它看。这时一只游荡的狮子狗懒洋洋地走过来，心情郁闷，在安闲的夏日里显得懒懒散散，它在屋里待腻了，很想出来换换环境。它一眼发现了这只甲虫，垂着的尾巴立即竖起来，晃动着。它审视了一下这个俘虏，围着它转了一圈，远远地闻了闻，又围着它走了一圈，胆子渐渐大了起来，靠近点又闻了闻。它张开嘴，小心翼翼地想把它咬住，可是却没咬住。于是它试了一回，又一回，渐渐地觉得这很开心，便把肚子贴着地，用两只脚把甲虫挡在中间，继续捉弄它。最后它终于厌烦了，下巴一点一点往下低，刚一碰到它的对手就被它咬住了。狮子狗尖叫一声，猛然摇了一下头，于是甲虫被它摔出了有一两码，摔得仰面朝天。邻座的观看者心里感到一种轻松的愉快，笑了起来，有些人用扇子和手绢遮住了脸，汤姆简直高兴死了。那只狗看起来傻乎乎的，也许它自己也觉得如此吧，可是它怀恨在心，决计报复。于是，它又走近甲虫，小心翼翼地开始再向它进攻。它围着它转，一有机会就扑上去，前爪离甲虫还不到一英尺远，又靠上去用牙齿去咬它，忙得它头直点，耳朵也上下直扇悠。可是，过了一会儿，它又厌烦了。它本想拿只苍蝇来开开味，可是仍不能解闷；然后，它鼻子贴着地面，跟着一只蚂蚁走，不久又打了呵欠，叹了口气，把那只甲虫彻底地给忘记了，一屁股坐在甲虫上面。于是，就听到这狗痛苦地尖叫起来，只见它在过道上飞快地跑着。它不停地叫着，不停地跑着，从圣坛前面跑过去，跑到了另一边的过道上。它又从大门那儿跑出去，跑到门边上的最后一段跑道，它往前跑，越是痛得难受，后来简直成了一个毛茸茸的彗星，闪着光亮，以光的速度在它的轨道上运行着。最后这只痛得发疯的狮子狗，越出了跑道，跳到主人的怀里；主人一把抓住它，把它扔到窗户外，痛苦的叫声很快地小下来，最后在远处听不见了。    这时候，教堂里所有的人都因竭力不发出笑声而憋得满脸通红，喘不过气来，布道声嘎然止住，一片寂静。接着牧师又开始讲道，犹犹豫豫而且声音走调，再想引起注意，无论如何是不可能的了，因为即便他说的内容很严肃，在后面座位背后忍不住总有一阵子失敬的笑声传来，好像这个可怜的人刚刚说了什么可笑的事情。等人们终于结束了受难，牧师给他们祝福的时候，全场都不免感到一阵轻松。    汤姆·索亚心情舒畅地回了家。他心里想，做礼拜时再加上点花样，倒挺有趣的。美中不足的是：他愿意让那只狗和大钳甲虫玩耍，可是它竟带着甲虫跑了，这未免太不够朋友了。
Chapter 6
MONDAY morning found Tom Sawyer miserable. Monday morning always found him so -- because it began another week's slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity and fetters again so much more odious.
Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed his system. No ailment was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan, as a "starter," as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning with considerable spirit.
But Sid slept on unconscious.
Tom groaned louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe.
No result from Sid.
Tom was panting with his exertions by this time. He took a rest and then swelled himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans.
Sid snored on.
Tom was aggravated. He said, "Sid, Sid!" and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said:
"Tom! Say, Tom!" [No response.] "Here, Tom! Tom! What is the matter, Tom?" And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously.
Tom moaned out:
"Oh, don't, Sid. Don't joggle me."
"Why, what's the matter, Tom? I must call auntie."
"No -- never mind. It'll be over by and by, maybe. Don't call anybody."
"But I must! don't groan so, Tom, it's awful. How long you been this way?"
"Hours. Ouch! Oh, don't stir so, Sid, you'll kill me."
"Tom, why didn't you wake me sooner ? Oh, Tom, don't! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?"
"I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you've ever done to me. When I'm gone --"
"Oh, Tom, you ain't dying, are you? Don't, Tom -- oh, don't. Maybe --"
"I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell 'em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that's come to town, and tell her --"
But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone.
Sid flew down-stairs and said:
"Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom's dying!"
"Dying!"
"Yes'm. Don't wait -- come quick!"
"Rubbage! I don't believe it!"
But she fled up-stairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped out:
"You, Tom! Tom, what's the matter with you?"
"Oh, auntie, I'm --"
"What's the matter with you -- what is the matter with you, child?"
"Oh, auntie, my sore toe's mortified!"
The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said:
"Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this."
The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said:
"Aunt Polly, it seemed mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all."
"Your tooth, indeed! What's the matter with your tooth?"
"One of them's loose, and it aches perfectly awful."
"There, there, now, don't begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well -- your tooth is loose, but you're not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk of fire out of the kitchen."
Tom said:
"Oh, please, auntie, don't pull it out. It don't hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don't, auntie. I don't want to stay home from school."
"Oh, you don't, don't you? So all this row was because you thought you'd get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness." By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom's tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy's face. The tooth hung dangling by the bedpost, now.
But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination and homage up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain which he did not feel that it wasn't anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, "Sour grapes!" and he wandered away a dismantled hero.
Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile pariah of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad -- and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up.
Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed, hampered, respectable boy in St. Petersburg.
Tom hailed the romantic outcast:
"Hello, Huckleberry!"
"Hello yourself, and see how you like it."
"What's that you got?"
"Dead cat."
"Lemme see him, Huck. My, he's pretty stiff. Where'd you get him ?"
"Bought him off'n a boy."
"What did you give?"
"I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house."
"Where'd you get the blue ticket?"
"Bought it off'n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick."
"Say -- what is dead cats good for, Huck?"
"Good for? Cure warts with."
"No! Is that so? I know something that's better."
"I bet you don't. What is it?"
"Why, spunk-water."
"Spunk-water! I wouldn't give a dern for spunk-water."
"You wouldn't, wouldn't you? D'you ever try it?"
"No, I hain't. But Bob Tanner did."
"Who told you so!"
"Why, he told Jeff Thatcher, and Jeff told Johnny Baker, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!"
"Well, what of it? They'll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don't know him. But I never see a nigger that wouldn't lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck."
"Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump where the rain-water was."
"In the daytime?"
"Certainly."
"With his face to the stump?"
"Yes. Least I reckon so."
"Did he say anything?"
"I don't reckon he did. I don't know."
"Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain't a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there's a spunk-water stump, and just as it's midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say:
'Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts, Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,'
and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm's busted."
"Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain't the way Bob Tanner done."
"No, sir, you can bet he didn't, becuz he's the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn't have a wart on him if he'd knowed how to work spunk-water. I've took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I've always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take 'em off with a bean."
"Yes, bean's good. I've done that."
"Have you? What's your way?"
"You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it 'bout midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that's got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes."
"Yes, that's it, Huck -- that's it; though when you're burying it if you say 'Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!' it's better. That's the way Joe Harper does, and he's been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say -- how do you cure 'em with dead cats?"
"Why, you take your cat and go and get in the graveyard 'long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it's midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can't see 'em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear 'em talk; and when they're taking that feller away, you heave your cat after 'em and say, 'Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I'm done with ye!' That'll fetch any wart."
"Sounds right. D'you ever try it, Huck?"
"No, but old Mother Hopkins told me."
"Well, I reckon it's so, then. Becuz they say she's a witch."
"Say! Why, Tom, I KNOW she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn't dodged, he'd a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off'n a shed wher' he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm."
"Why, that's awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?"
"Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they're a-witching you. Specially if they mumble. Becuz when they mumble they're saying the Lord's Prayer backards."
"Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?"
"To-night. I reckon they'll come after old Hoss Williams to-night."
"But they buried him Saturday. Didn't they get him Saturday night?"
"Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight? -- and then it's Sunday. Devils don't slosh around much of a Sunday, I don't reckon."
"I never thought of that. That's so. Lemme go with you?"
"Of course -- if you ain't afeard."
"Afeard! 'Tain't likely. Will you meow?"
"Yes -- and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep' me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says 'Dern that cat!' and so I hove a brick through his window -- but don't you tell."
"I won't. I couldn't meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I'll meow this time. Say -- what's that?"
"Nothing but a tick."
"Where'd you get him?"
"Out in the woods."
"What'll you take for him?"
"I don't know. I don't want to sell him."
"All right. It's a mighty small tick, anyway."
"Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don't belong to them. I'm satisfied with it. It's a good enough tick for me."
"Sho, there's ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of 'em if I wanted to."
"Well, why don't you? Becuz you know mighty well you can't. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It's the first one I've seen this year."
"Say, Huck -- I'll give you my tooth for him."
"Less see it."
Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said:
"Is it genuwyne?"
Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy.
"Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade."
Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before.
When Tom reached the little isolated frame schoolhouse, he strode in briskly, 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?"
Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was the only vacant place on the girls' side of the school-house. He instantly said:
"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."
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."
The master's arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably diminished. Then the order followed:
"Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you."
The titter that rippled around the room appeared to abash the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe of his unknown idol and the dread pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book.
By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive glances at the girl. She observed it, "made a mouth" at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled on his slate, "Please take it -- I got more." The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently unconscious. The girl made a sort of non-committal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered:
"Let me see it."
Tom partly uncovered a dismal caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl's interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered:
"It's nice -- make a man."
The artist erected a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered:
"It's a beautiful man -- now make me coming along."
Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous fan. The girl said:
"It's ever so nice -- I wish I could draw."
"It's easy," whispered Tom, "I'll learn you."
"Oh, will you? When?"
"At noon. Do you go home to dinner?"
"I'll stay if you will."
"Good -- that's a whack. What's your name?"
"Becky Thatcher. What's yours? Oh, I know. It's Thomas Sawyer."
"That's the name they lick me by. I'm Tom when I'm good. You call me Tom, will you?"
"Yes."
Now Tom began to scrawl something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said:
"Oh, it ain't anything."
"Yes it is."
"No it ain't. You don't want to see."
"Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me."
"You'll tell."
"No I won't -- deed and deed and double deed won't."
"You won't tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?"
"No, I won't ever tell anybody. Now let me."
"Oh, you don't want to see!"
"Now that you treat me so, I will see." And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: "I love you."
"Oh, you bad thing!" And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless.
Just at this juncture the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that vise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom's ear tingled, his heart was jubilant.
As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos was come again; then in the spelling class, and got "turned down," by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation for months. 
第六章　汤姆识贝基，耳痛心欢喜
    星期一早晨，汤姆·索亚很难受。这个时候汤姆向来是很难受的——因为又一个漫长而难熬的星期开始了。他在这一天总是想要是没有这个休息日夹在中间倒也好些，有了那一天，他感到再到学校里去犹如去坐牢、去受罪，这使他觉得十分厌恶。    汤姆躺在那想着。突然一个念头在脑子里一闪，他希望他生病；这样，他就能待在家里不去上学了。这倒是有可能。他把自己浑身上下仔细地检查了一下，没有发现什么毛病。他又查找了一番，这次他以为可以找出肚子疼的理由，并且满心希望地让疼痛发作。可是不久他就泄了气，根本没有一点疼痛的迹象。于是他又动起脑筋来，突然，他发现目标了。他的上排门牙有一颗松了劲。他真是太运气了；他正打算开始呻吟，用他的话说这叫“开场白”，这时他猛然想起如果他提出这个理由来应付的话，他姨妈就会当真把这颗牙拔出来，那将偷鸡不成反蚀一把米。所以他想暂时先留着这颗牙，再另找毛病。找了一段时间，他没找到什么毛病，后来他想起曾听医生说过有一种病能让病人躺两三个星期，而且弄不好会烂掉一只手指头。于是这孩子急忙把他那只肿痛的脚趾头从被子里搬出来，举起来仔细察看。可是，他又不清楚那种病有些什么病症。不管怎么说，试还是值得一试的，于是他煞有介事地开始呻吟起来。    可是希德仍然睡着，一点反应都没有。汤姆呻吟得更响了，而且感到他的脚真地痛起来。    希德还是一动不动。    汤姆因为呻吟得太吃力，累得喘着粗气。他停了一会，重新鼓起劲头，发出一连串绝妙的呻吟声。    希德还在酣睡。    汤姆来火了。他喊道：“希德，希德！”边喊边推推他。这一招果然很有效，于是汤姆又开始呻吟起来。希德打着呵欠，伸伸懒腰，用胳膊肘支起身子时又喷了一下鼻子，然后瞪起双眼看着汤姆。汤姆还在叫唤，希德就问：    “汤姆！嘿，汤姆！”（汤姆没搭腔。）“怎么啦，汤姆！汤姆！你怎么啦，汤姆？”他推了推汤姆，焦急地看着他的脸。    汤姆呻吟着说：    “啊，希德，不要这样，不要推我。”    “嘿，汤姆，你怎么啦？我得去叫姨妈来。”    “不——不要紧。这也许慢慢会过去的，不用叫任何人来。”    “我一定要去叫！不要再这样叫唤了，怪让人害怕的。你这么难受有多久了？”    “好几个小时了，哎唷！希德，不要推我，你想要我的命啊！”    “汤姆，你为什么不早点叫醒我？哦，汤姆，不要叫唤了！    听你这么叫我身上都起鸡皮疙瘩。汤姆，哪儿不舒服？”    “希德，我什么事情都原谅你（呻吟）。你对我所干的一切事情我都不怪罪你。我死了以后……”    “喔，汤姆，你不会死的，别这样，汤姆——啊，别这样。也许……”    “希德，我原谅所有的人（呻吟）。希德，请你转告他们吧。希德，你把我那个窗户框子和那只独眼小猫给那个新搬来的姑娘吧，你对她说……”    可是希德早就抓起衣服跑出去了。这时候汤姆真地感到很难受了，没想到想象力竟起了这么大的作用，于是他的呻吟声就装得像真的一样了。    希德飞快地跑下楼，边跑边喊道：    “波莉姨妈，快来呀！汤姆要死了！”    “要死了？！”    “是的，姨妈。来不及了，快上来！”    “瞎讲！我不相信！”    可是她还是赶快地跑上楼去，希德和玛丽紧跟在后面。这时她脸色也白了，嘴唇直颤动。来到床边后，她喘着气问：    “是你，汤姆！汤姆，你哪里不舒服啊？”    “哦，姨妈，我——”    “你哪里不舒服——孩子，你到底怎么啦？”    “哦，姨妈，我那只肿痛的脚趾头发炎了！”    老太太一屁股坐在椅子上，笑了一会，又哭了一阵，然后又连哭带笑。等到她终于恢复了常态，她说：“汤姆，你真地把我吓坏了。好了，闭上嘴巴，别再胡扯八道了，快起床吧。”    呻吟声停了，脚趾的疼痛也立刻消失了。这孩子觉得有点不好意思，于是他说：    “波莉姨妈，脚趾头看着真像是发炎了，痛得我把牙齿的事忘得一干二净。”    “你的牙齿，真是怪事！牙齿又怎么啦？”    “有一颗牙松动了，而且的确痛得难受。”    “得了，得了，你可别再叫唤了。张开嘴，不错——你的一颗牙齿真地松动了，不过你绝不会痛死的。玛丽，拿根丝线给我，再到厨房去弄块烧红的火炭来。”    汤姆说：    “啊，姨妈，请你手下留情。现在牙不痛了。要是再痛，我也不叫唤了。姨妈，请您别拔啦。我不想呆在家里逃学了。”    “哦，你不逃学了，是吗？原来你这么大叫大闹，为的就是你以为这样就可以呆在家里，不去上学去钓鱼呀？汤姆呀，汤姆，我这么爱你，可是你好像尽耍花招来气我，想断送我这条老命呀。”这时候，拔牙的准备已经做好了。老太太把丝线的一头打了活结，牢牢地系在汤姆的那颗牙上，另一头系在床柱上。然后她拿起那块烧红的火炭，猛地朝汤姆脸面伸过去，差点碰到他的脸。结果，那颗牙就晃来晃去吊在床柱上了。    可是有所失就有所得。当汤姆吃过早饭去上学的时候，在路上遇到的每个孩子都羡慕他，因为他上排牙齿的缺口能够使他用一种新的方法吐唾沫。一大群孩子们跟在他后面，对他这种表演很感兴趣。有一个割破手指的孩子，大家都敬佩他，围着他转，现在忽然没有人追随他了，不免大失光彩。他的心情很沉重，可是他却鄙夷地说，像汤姆·索亚那样吐唾沫，算不了什么稀罕，可是他心里并不真地这么认为，另外有个孩子说：“酸葡萄！”于是他就成了一位落荒而逃的英雄。    不久汤姆遇到了村子里坏孩子哈克贝利·费恩，他是本镇一个酒鬼的儿子。全镇所有的母亲们对哈克贝利都深恶痛绝而又十分畏惧：他游手好闲、无法无天，而且既下流又没教养——再加上所有的孩子却又都非常羡慕他。虽然大人们都不允许他们和他接触，他们却乐于和他玩耍，还希望自己也敢学他那样。和其他许多体面的孩子们一样，汤姆很羡慕哈克贝利那种逍遥自在的流浪儿生活，可是也被严厉地告知：不许和他玩。所以，他每每一有机会就和他混在一起。哈克贝利经常穿着大人们丢弃不要的旧衣服，总是满身开花，破布乱飘。他的帽子很大很破，边上有一块月牙形的帽边子耷拉着。他要是穿着上装的话，那上装就差不多拖到他的脚后跟，背后的两排并齐的扣子一直扣到屁股；裤子却只有一根吊带；裤子裆部像个空空的口袋似地垂得很低。裤腿没有卷起的时候，毛了边的下半截就在灰土里拖来拖去。    哈克贝利来去很自由，全凭自己高兴。天气晴朗的时候，他就睡在门口台阶上；下雨时，就睡到大空桶里。他不用去上学也不必去做礼拜，不必叫谁老师，也不用服从谁；他可以随时随地去钓鱼，去游泳，而且想呆多长间就呆多长时间；也没有人管住他打架；晚上他高兴熬夜到什么时候就熬到什么时候；春天他总是第一个光着脚，到了秋天却是最后一个穿上鞋；他从来不用洗脸，也不用穿干净衣服；他可以随便骂人，而且特别会骂。总而言之，一切充分享受生活的事情，这孩子都拥有了。圣彼德堡镇的那些受折磨、受拘束的体面孩子们个个都是这么想的。    汤姆向那个浪漫的流浪儿招呼道：    “你好啊，哈克贝利！”    “你也好啊，喜欢这玩意吧。”    “你得了什么宝贝？”    “一只死猫。”    “哈克，让我瞅瞅。嗐，这家伙倒是硬帮帮的，你从哪弄来的？”    “从一个孩子那儿买来的。”    “拿什么换的？”    “我给他一张蓝色票和一只从屠宰厂那儿弄来的尿泡。”    “你的蓝票是从哪儿弄来的？”    “两星期前用一根推铁环的棍子和贝恩·罗杰换的。”    “我说——哈克，死猫能有什么用？”    “有什么用？可以治疣子。”    “不会吧！你说能治吗？我知道有个更好的药方子。”    “我敢打赌你不知道。是什么方子？”    “不就是仙水吗。”    “仙水！我看仙水一文钱不值？”    “你说一文钱不值，是不是？你试过吗？”    “没有试过。可是鲍勃·唐纳试过。”    “你怎么知道的？”    “噢，他告诉杰夫·撒切尔，杰夫又告诉江尼·贝克，江尼又告诉吉姆·赫利斯，吉姆又告诉本·罗杰，罗杰又告诉了一个黑人，那黑人又告诉了我。这不，我就知道了。”    “得，你知道又有什么？他们都在撒谎，那个黑人可能除外。我不认识他，不过我从来也没见过有哪个黑人不撒谎的。呸！那么哈克你说说鲍勃·唐纳怎么试的吧。”    “噢，他的手伸进一个腐烂的老树桩子里去蘸里面的雨水。”    “在白天干的吗？”    “那还用说。”    “脸对着树桩吗？”    “对呀。至少我是这么合计的。”    “他没说什么？”    “我估计没有。我不清楚。”    “啊！用那样糊涂蛋的方法还谈什么仙水治疣子！哎，那根本就行不通。你必须独自一个人到树林中间，找到那个有仙水的树桩，等到正值半夜时分，你背对着树桩，把手塞进去，嘴里要念：‘麦粒麦粒，还有玉米粉，仙水仙水，治好这疣子。’念完之后，就闭着眼睛，立刻走开，走十一步，然后转三圈，不要和任何人讲话径直回家。如果你一讲话，那符咒就不灵了。”    “哼，这听起来倒像是好办法；不过鲍勃·唐纳不是这样做的。”    “嘿，尊敬的伙计，他当然没有这样做，所以他是这个镇上疣子长得最多的一个。他要是晓得怎么使用仙水，那他身上就会一个疣子都没有了。哈克，用那个办法我已经治好手上无数个疣子。我老爱玩青蛙，所以我老是长出许许多多的疣子。有时候我就拿蚕豆来治它们。”    “是的，蚕豆是不错。我也这样治过。”    “是吗？你是怎么做的？”    “拿一个蚕豆把它掰成两片，再把疣子弄破，弄出点血来，然后你把血涂在蚕豆的一片上，趁着半夜三更没有月亮的时候，找个岔路口，挖个坑把这片蚕豆埋到地下，再把另外半片烧掉。你看有血的那半片蚕豆不停地在吸啊吸啊，想把另外那半片吸过去，这样有助于用血去吸疣子，过不多久，疣子就掉了。”    “对，就是这样干的，哈克——就是这样。当然你埋蚕豆的时候，你要说：‘埋下蚕豆，消掉疣子，不要再来烦我！’这会更好些的。乔·哈帕就是这样做的，他差不多到过康维尔，还有许多别的地方哩。可是话说回来，用死猫怎么治疣子呢？”    ‘唉，你拿着死猫等半夜坏蛋被埋时，到坟地去；魔鬼都是半夜行动，说不准三两成群，不过你看不见他们，但能听到他们走路的声音，或许还能听到他们的谈话。他们带那坏蛋到阴曹地府时，你往他们后面扔死猫还要念道：‘鬼跟尸跑，    猫跟鬼跑，疣子跟着猫，我和疣子一刀两断了！’这样保管什么疣子都治好。”    “这听起来倒是蛮有道理。哈克，你试过没有？”    “没有。不过霍普金斯老太婆跟我说过。”    “是啊，她可能说过。因为人们说她是个巫婆。”    “可不是吗，汤姆，这我知道。她迷惑过我爹。这是我爹亲口说的。有一天，他走过来，见她要迷惑他，就捡起一块大石头，要不是她躲闪得及时，他就砸中她了。可是也就在当天夜里，他喝醉了酒，躺在一个小木屋顶上，不知怎么就摔下来，摔断了一只胳膊。”    “哎呀，真不幸。他是怎么知道她要迷惑他的呢？”    “哦，我的老天爷！我爹一眼就看出来了。我爹说她们直勾勾地盯着你时，就是要迷惑你，特别是当嘴里还念着咒时，就更不用说了。这时，她们把圣经的祷文倒过来念。”“嘿，我说哈克，你打算什么时候去试着用这猫治疣子？”    “今天夜里。我猜他们会去弄霍斯·威廉斯这老家伙。”    “可是他不是星期六被埋了吗？他们星期六夜里没来把他弄走吗？”    “嘿，瞧你说的！他们的咒语午夜后怎么能起作用呢？午夜一过那可就是星期天了。我猜想，真是星期天鬼是不怎么四处游荡的。”    “我从来没有想到这一点。是这么回事呀。让我和你一起去，好吗？”    “当然好了——只要你不害怕就行。”    “害怕！那还不至于。你来学猫叫好吗？”    “好。如果我叫了，你也回应一声。上一回，你让我老在那学猫咪呜咪呜的，后来黑斯这老头就冲我扔石头，还说‘去他妈的瘟猫！’所以我拿砖头砸了他家窗户。不过，你不要讲出去。”    “我不会说的。那天晚上我姨妈一直在盯住我，我怎么能学猫叫呢。但是这一回我会咪呜的。嘿，那是什么？”    “只是个扁虱罢了。”    “在哪搞到的？”    “在外面的树林里。”    “拿什么东西跟你换它，你才干？”    “我不知道。我不想把它卖掉。”    “那就算了。你瞧你这只扁虱，这么小哩。”    “哦，吃不到葡萄就说葡萄酸。我对它倒是挺满意的。对我来说，这扁虱够好的了。”    “哼，扁虱多得是。我要是想要的话，一千个我也能搞到。”    “喂，得了吧，那你搞来给我看看呀。你是抓不到的。我认为这是个较早的扁虱，是我今年见到的头一个。”    “那么，哈克，我用我的牙齿跟你换扁虱吧。”    “让我瞧瞧。”    汤姆拿出一个小纸包，小心翼翼地打开它。哈克贝利望眼欲穿。这诱惑大大了。最后，他说：    “这是真牙齿吗？”    汤姆翻起嘴唇，给他看缺口。    “哼，那好吧。”哈克贝利说，“换就换吧。”    汤姆把扁虱装进前几天囚禁大钳甲虫的那个雷管筒子里后，他们就分手了，各自都感觉比以前富有了许多。    汤姆来到那座孤零零的小木框校舍的时候，他迈着轻松愉快的步伐，好像是老老实实来上学的样子，大步走进教室。他把帽子挂在钉子上，一本正经地边忙边坐到他的座位上。他的老师正高高地坐在他那把大细藤条扶手椅上，听着催眠的读书声，正打着盹。汤姆进来把他吵醒了。    “托马斯·索亚！”    汤姆晓得老师要是叫他全名，那麻烦事就来了。    “到，老师！”    “过来，我问你。好家伙，你为什么迟到了，总是这样？”    汤姆正要撒个谎来蒙混过关，这时他看到一个人的背上垂下两条长长的金黄色辫子，他为之一惊。一股爱情的暖流使他立刻认出了那女孩子。女生坐的那一边，正好只有她身旁空着一个位子。他立刻说：    “我路上和哈克贝利·费恩讲话耽搁了！”    老师气得脉搏都要停止跳动了，他无可奈何地瞪着眼睛望着汤姆。乱哄哄的读书声也停止了。学生们都很纳闷，这个莽撞的家伙是不是脑子有毛病。老师说：    “你，你干了什么？”    “路上和哈克贝利·费恩讲话耽搁了。”    他说得一清二楚。    “托马斯·索亚，这可是我听到的最叫人吃惊的坦白交待了。你犯了这样大的错误，光用戒尺不能解决问题。把上衣脱掉！”    老师直打得胳膊发累，戒鞭有明显磨损时才住手。之后他命令道：    “去吧！去和姑娘们坐在一块，这对你算是一次警告。”    教室里到处都是窃窃私语声，似乎是这让汤姆脸红。但实际上，他脸红是因为崇拜那位素不相识的女孩，还有幸能和她同桌。他在松木板凳的一头坐下来，那女孩子一仰头，身子往另一头移了移。大家相互推推胳膊，眨眨眼睛，低声耳语。但是汤姆却正襟危坐，两只胳膊放在既长又矮的书桌上，好像在看书学习。    渐渐地，大家的注意力不再集中在汤姆身上，学校里惯有的低沉的读书声重新在那沉闷的空气中响起。这时汤姆偷偷地瞥了那女孩几次。她注意到了，“朝他做了鬼脸”之后有一分钟光景，她都用后脑勺冲着他。等她慢慢地转过脸来时，有一个桃子摆在了她的面前。她把桃子推开，汤姆又轻轻地把它放回去。她又把桃子推开，不过这次态度缓和了些。汤姆耐心地把它又放回原处。这一回她没有再拒绝了。汤姆在他的写字板上写了几个字：“请你收下吧，我多得是哩。”那女孩瞥了瞥这些字，仍是一动也不动。于是汤姆就用左手挡住写字板，开始在上面画着图画。有好一阵子，那女孩坚决不去看他作画，可是在好奇心的驱使下，她开始动摇了。汤姆继续画着，好像不知道那回事。那女孩想看，但态度不明朗，可是这男孩还是不动声色，装作没看见。最后她让了步，犹犹豫豫小声说道：    “让我看看吧。”    汤姆略微挪开左手，石板上画的是座房子，画得既不好又模模糊糊，两个山墙头，还有一缕炊烟从烟囱里袅袅升起。可是姑娘的兴趣被吸引住了，于是，她把一切都抛到了九霄云外。画画好的时候，她盯着看了一会，然后低声说：    “画得真好——再画一个人上去。”    于是，这位“画家”就在前院里画了一个人，他拔地而起，那形状有点像一架人字起重一大步就可以跨过房子。可是这姑娘并不在乎这一点。她对这个大怪物很满意。她低声说：    “这个人画得真好看，再画就画我，画成正走过来的样子。”    汤姆就画了个水漏或沙漏（均可作计时器用），加上一轮满月，四肢像草扎似的，硬梆梆的，张开的手指拿着一把大得可怕的扇子。    姑娘说：    “画得太好了。我要是会画就好了。”    “这容易，”汤姆低声说道，“跟我学。”    “啊，你愿意吗？什么时候教我？”    “中午。你回家吃午饭吗？”    “如果你教我，我就留在这里。”    “好，那太好不过了。你叫什么名字？”    “贝基·撒切尔，你叫什么？哦，我知道，你叫托马斯·索亚。”    “他们揍我时，就叫我这个名字。我表现好的时候叫做汤姆。你叫我汤姆，好吗？”    “好的。”    这时候，汤姆又在写字板上写着什么字，还用手挡住不让那姑娘看见。这一回她不像以前了。她请求汤姆给她看。汤姆说：    “啊，没什么好看的。”    “不，一定有好看的。”    “真的没什么好看的。再说，你也不爱看这个。”    “我要看，我真的要看。请让我看一看。”    “你会说出去的。”    “不会，决不会，百分之一百二十地不会。”    “跟任何人你都不会说吗？永远不说，一辈子不说？”    “是的，我不会告诉任何人，现在让我看吧。”    “啊，你真想看吗！”    “既然你这样待我，我就一定要看！”于是她把小手儿按在他手上，两个人争了一会儿，汤姆假装拼命捂着不让她看的样子，可是手渐渐移开，露出了三个字：“我爱你。”    “啊，你坏蛋！”她用力打了他的手，脸虽然红了，但心里却乐滋滋的。    就在这时，汤姆觉得有人慢慢地抓住他的耳杂，渐渐往上提起。这一抓非同小同，让汤姆挣脱不掉。就这样，在一片尖刻的咯咯笑声中他被钳着耳杂，从教室这边拉到那边自己的座位上。接着老师在他身旁站了一会，教室里肃然起敬，然后他则一言不发，回到了自己的宝座上。汤姆虽然感到耳朵很疼，但心里却是甜蜜蜜的。    班里静下来时，汤姆动起真格来要好好学习，可是内心却不能平静下来。结果朗读时，他读得别别扭扭；而在地理课上，他把湖泊当成山脉，一切都被他“恢复”到了原始混沌状态；上拼写课时，一连串最简单的字弄得他“翻了船”，结果成绩在全班垫了底，他只好把戴在身上、风光了好几个月的那枚奖章退给了老师。
Chapter 7
THE harder Tom tried to fasten his mind on his book, the more his ideas wandered. So at last, with a sigh and a yawn, he gave it up. It seemed to him that the noon recess would never come. The air was utterly dead. There was not a breath stirring. It was the sleepiest of sleepy days. The drowsing murmur of the five and twenty studying scholars soothed the soul like the spell that is in the murmur of bees. Away off in the flaming sunshine, Cardiff Hill lifted its soft green sides through a shimmering veil of heat, tinted with the purple of distance; a few birds floated on lazy wing high in the air; no other living thing was visible but some cows, and they were asleep. Tom's heart ached to be free, or else to have something of interest to do to pass the dreary time. His hand wandered into his pocket and his face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction.
Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom.
"Now," said he, "as long as he is on your side you can stir him up and I'll let him alone; but if you let him get away and get on my side, you're to leave him alone as long as I can keep him from crossing over."
"All right, go ahead; start him up."
The tick escaped from Tom, presently, and crossed the equator. Joe harassed him awhile, and then he got away and crossed back again. This change of base occurred often. While one boy was worrying the tick with absorbing interest, the other would look on with interest as strong, the two heads bowed together over the slate, and the two souls dead to all things else. At last luck seemed to settle and abide with Joe. The tick tried this, that, and the other course, and got as excited and as anxious as the boys themselves, but time and again just as he would have victory in his very grasp, so to speak, and Tom's fingers would be twitching to begin, Joe's pin would deftly head him off, and keep possession. At last Tom could stand it no longer. The temptation was too strong. So he reached out and lent a hand with his pin. Joe was angry in a moment. Said he:
"Tom, you let him alone."
"I only just want to stir him up a little, Joe."
"No, sir, it ain't fair; you just let him alone."
"Blame it, I ain't going to stir him much."
"Let him alone, I tell you."
"I won't!"
"You shall -- he's on my side of the line."
"Look here, Joe Harper, whose is that tick?"
"I don't care whose tick he is -- he's on my side of the line, and you sha'n't touch him."
"Well, I'll just bet I will, though. He's my tick and I'll do what I blame please with him, or die!"
A tremendous whack came down on Tom's shoulders, and its duplicate on Joe's; and for the space of two minutes the dust continued to fly from the two jackets and the whole school to enjoy it. The boys had been too absorbed to notice the hush that had stolen upon the school awhile before when the master came tiptoeing down the room and stood over them. He had contemplated a good part of the performance before he contributed his bit of variety to it.
When school broke up at noon, Tom flew to Becky Thatcher, and whispered in her ear:
"Put on your bonnet and let on you're going home; and when you get to the corner, give the rest of 'em the slip, and turn down through the lane and come back. I'll go the other way and come it over 'em the same way."
So the one went off with one group of scholars, and the other with another. In a little while the two met at the bottom of the lane, and when they reached the school they had it all to themselves. Then they sat together, with a slate before them, and Tom gave Becky the pencil and held her hand in his, guiding it, and so created another surprising house. When the interest in art began to wane, the two fell to talking. Tom was swimming in bliss. He said:
"Do you love rats?"
"No! I hate them!"
"Well, I do, too -- live ones. But I mean dead ones, to swing round your head with a string."
"No, I don't care for rats much, anyway. What I like is chewing-gum."
"Oh, I should say so! I wish I had some now."
"Do you? I've got some. I'll let you chew it awhile, but you must give it back to me."
That was agreeable, so they chewed it turn about, and dangled their legs against the bench in excess of contentment.
"Was you ever at a circus?" said Tom.
"Yes, and my pa's going to take me again some time, if I'm good."
"I been to the circus three or four times -- lots of times. Church ain't shucks to a circus. There's things going on at a circus all the time. I'm going to be a clown in a circus when I grow up."
"Oh, are you! That will be nice. They're so lovely, all spotted up."
"Yes, that's so. And they get slathers of money -- most a dollar a day, Ben Rogers says. Say, Becky, was you ever engaged?"
"What's that?"
"Why, engaged to be married."
"No."
"Would you like to?"
"I reckon so. I don't know. What is it like?"
"Like? Why it ain't like anything. You only just tell a boy you won't ever have anybody but him, ever ever ever, and then you kiss and that's all. Anybody can do it."
"Kiss? What do you kiss for?"
"Why, that, you know, is to -- well, they always do that."
"Everybody?"
"Why, yes, everybody that's in love with each other. Do you remember what I wrote on the slate?"
"Ye -- yes."
"What was it?"
"I sha'n't tell you."
"Shall I tell you?"
"Ye -- yes -- but some other time."
"No, now."
"No, not now -- to-morrow."
"Oh, no, now. Please, Becky -- I'll whisper it, I'll whisper it ever so easy."
Becky hesitating, Tom took silence for consent, and passed his arm about her waist and whispered the tale ever so softly, with his mouth close to her ear. And then he added:
"Now you whisper it to me -- just the same."
She resisted, for a while, and then said:
"You turn your face away so you can't see, and then I will. But you mustn't ever tell anybody -- will you, Tom? Now you won't, will you?"
"No, indeed, indeed I won't. Now, Becky."
He turned his face away. She bent timidly around till her breath stirred his curls and whispered, "I -- love -- you!"
Then she sprang away and ran around and around the desks and benches, with Tom after her, and took refuge in a corner at last, with her little white apron to her face. Tom clasped her about her neck and pleaded:
"Now, Becky, it's all done -- all over but the kiss. Don't you be afraid of that -- it ain't anything at all. Please, Becky." And he tugged at her apron and the hands.
By and by she gave up, and let her hands drop; her face, all glowing with the struggle, came up and submitted. Tom kissed the red lips and said:
"Now it's all done, Becky. And always after this, you know, you ain't ever to love anybody but me, and you ain't ever to marry anybody but me, ever never and forever. Will you?"
"No, I'll never love anybody but you, Tom, and I'll never marry anybody but you -- and you ain't to ever marry anybody but me, either."
"Certainly. Of course. That's part of it. And always coming to school or when we're going home, you're to walk with me, when there ain't anybody looking -- and you choose me and I choose you at parties, because that's the way you do when you're engaged."
"It's so nice. I never heard of it before."
"Oh, it's ever so gay! Why, me and Amy Lawrence --"
The big eyes told Tom his blunder and he stopped, confused.
"Oh, Tom! Then I ain't the first you've ever been engaged to!"
The child began to cry. Tom said:
"Oh, don't cry, Becky, I don't care for her any more."
"Yes, you do, Tom -- you know you do."
Tom tried to put his arm about her neck, but she pushed him away and turned her face to the wall, and went on crying. Tom tried again, with soothing words in his mouth, and was repulsed again. Then his pride was up, and he strode away and went outside. He stood about, restless and uneasy, for a while, glancing at the door, every now and then, hoping she would repent and come to find him. But she did not. Then he began to feel badly and fear that he was in the wrong. It was a hard struggle with him to make new advances, now, but he nerved himself to it and entered. She was still standing back there in the corner, sobbing, with her face to the wall. Tom's heart smote him. He went to her and stood a moment, not knowing exactly how to proceed. Then he said hesitatingly:
"Becky, I -- I don't care for anybody but you."
No reply -- but sobs.
"Becky" -- pleadingly. "Becky, won't you say something?"
More sobs.
Tom got out his chiefest jewel, a brass knob from the top of an andiron, and passed it around her so that she could see it, and said:
"Please, Becky, won't you take it?"
She struck it to the floor. Then Tom marched out of the house and over the hills and far away, to return to school no more that day. Presently Becky began to suspect. She ran to the door; he was not in sight; she flew around to the play-yard; he was not there. Then she called:
"Tom! Come back, Tom!"
She listened intently, but there was no answer. She had no companions but silence and loneliness. So she sat down to cry again and upbraid herself; and by this time the scholars began to gather again, and she had to hide her griefs and still her broken heart and take up the cross of a long, dreary, aching afternoon, with none among the strangers about her to exchange sorrows with. 
第七章　扁虱之争，贝基伤心
    汤姆越想集中注意力看书，脑子就越乱。他只好叹叹气，打了个呵欠，最后取消了看书学习的念头。他觉得中午放学时间老是不到来。空气死一般寂等，纹丝不动，这是最最发困的日子。教室里有二十五位学生在用功，他们的读书声就像是一群蜜蜂的嗡嗡叫声，安抚着人们的心灵，也催人入眠。远处赤日炎炎下，卡第夫山在一层微微闪动的热浪中，显得青翠欲滴，紫莹莹的，远看上去十分柔和；几只鸟儿悠闲地在高高的天空上翱翔；只有几只牛还算是活着的东西，可它们却在睡觉。汤姆心急如焚，企盼着早点下课，不然弄点有趣的活计捣鼓捣鼓来打发时间也好。他七摸八摸地模到了口袋，不知不觉地，他为之一振，满脸露出感激之情。于是他悄悄地拿出那个雷管筒子，把扁虱放出来，放在那条平平的长条书桌上。这小东西大概也有种谢天谢地的快感，可是未免高兴得有些太早了，因为正当它感激万分地要逃走时，汤姆用别针把它翻了个，让它改变了方向。    汤姆的至友乔·哈帕就坐在他旁边。和汤姆一样，乔·哈帕终于有了出头之日。看见扁虱，他很感激，一下子对它产生了浓厚的兴趣。这两个朋友平日里是莫逆之交，可到了星期六就成了对阵的敌人。乔从衣服的翻领上取下别针，开始帮着操练这个小俘虏。这种玩法立刻有趣多了。不久，汤姆说两个人玩一样东西既不方便也不过瘾。因此他把乔的写字板放到桌子上，在写字板正中间从上到下划了一条直线。    他说：“现在只要扁虱在你那边，你就可以拨弄它，我不动手；不过要是你让它跑了，跑到我这边，你就得让我玩，只要我能保住它，不让它爬过去，你就不准动手。”    “行，开始吧。让它走。”    扁虱很快就从汤姆这边逃出去，爬过了界线。乔捉玩了一阵，它又逃掉，跑到汤姆那边。这样扁虱经常来回两边跑，因此当一个孩子全神贯注地担心扁虱会逃到另一边时，另外一个也饶有兴趣地在一旁看着。两个脑袋都凑得很近盯着写字板，对周围发生的一切，他俩全然不顾。后来乔好像非常走运。那扁虱这儿走走，那儿走走，然后又换一边走走，它和两个孩子一样既兴奋又着急。可是一次又一次，正当它好像是有把握可以获得胜利，汤姆的手指也正在急着要去拨它的时候，乔用别针灵巧地把它拨了一下，又叫它转回头，还是留在他这边。最后汤姆实在是忍无可忍，诱惑实在太大了。于是他伸出手去，用他的别针拨了一下。乔这下子也生气了，说：    “汤姆，你别动它。”    “我只是想稍微动它一下，乔。”    “不，伙计，这不公平；你还是不要动它。”    “去你的，我又不是使劲拨它。”    “告诉你，别去动它。”    “我不愿意！”    “你得愿意——它在我这边。”    “听着，乔·哈帕，这扁虱是谁的？”    “我不管是谁的——现在我这一边，你就不得动它。”“哼，我就动，怎么着？他是我的，我爱怎么动就怎么动，拼上性命我也不在乎！”    汤姆的肩膀上重重挨了一击，乔也一样。有两分钟的功夫，他俩的上衣灰尘直冒，弄得全体同学极为开心。孩子们光顾你争我抢，没有注意到教室里突然变得鸦雀无声。原来老师早已观察了许久后，这才踮着脚走过来站到了他们跟前。    中午放学的时候，汤姆飞快跑到贝基·撒切尔那儿，低声耳语道：    “戴上帽子，装着要回家去；走到拐角时，你就单溜，然后从那巷子再绕回来。我走另一条路，也用同样的办法甩开他们。”    于是，一个跟着一群同学走了，另一个跟着另一群走。一会儿之后，他们都到了巷子尽头。返回学校后，一切都归他俩支配。于是他们坐在一起，面前放着一块写字板，汤姆给贝基一枝铅笔，然后手把着手教她画，就这样又画了一个令人叫绝的房子。当他们对画画渐渐不再感兴趣时，就开始说起话来。汤姆沉浸在幸福之中。他说：    “你喜欢老鼠吗？”    “不！我讨厌老鼠！”    “哼，我也讨厌——活老鼠。可我是说死老鼠，用一根线拴着，在头上甩来甩去地玩。”    “不，不管怎么样，我不大喜欢老鼠。我所喜欢的是口香糖。”    “啊，我也是。要是现在有就好了。”    “是吗？我倒有几个。我让你嚼一会儿，不过你要还给我。”    谈好条件以后，他俩轮流嚼着口香糖，他们悬着腿，坐在长凳上，高兴极了。    汤姆问：“你看过马戏吗？”    “看过。我爸说如果我听话的话，他以后还带我去看哩。”    “我看过三四次马戏——看过好多次。做礼拜和看马戏相比，算不了什么。马戏团演出时，总是不停地换着花样。我打算长大后到马戏团当小丑。”    “啊，真的吗！那倒不错。小丑满身画着点点，真可爱。”    “是的，一点也不错。他们能赚大把大把的钞票——差不多一天赚一块，本·罗杰斯说的。嘿，贝基，你订过婚吗？”    “订婚是什么？”    “哦，订婚就是快要结婚了。”    “没有。”    “你愿意订婚吗？”    “我想是愿意的。我不知道。订婚究竟是怎么回事？”“怎么回事？说不上怎么回事。你对一个男孩子说除了他，你将永远永远，永远不和别人相好，然后你就和他接吻，就这么回事。人人都能做到。”    “接吻？接吻干什么？”    “哎，那，你知道，就是——嘿，人家都是那样做的。”    “人人都这样？”    “哎，对，彼此相爱的人都这样。你还记得我在写字板上写的字吗？”    “记——记得。”    “写的是什么？”    “我不告诉你。”    “那我告诉你。”    “好——好吧——还是以后再说吧。”    “不，现在说。”    “不行，现在不能说——明天再说吧。”    “不，不行，就现在说。求求你，贝基——我小声说，我轻轻地说。”    贝基正在犹豫，汤姆认为她是默许了，于是用胳膊搂住她的腰，嘴靠近她的耳朵，轻声细语地讲了那句话。接着他又补充道：    “现在你也轻轻地对我说——同样的话。”    她先拒绝了一会，然后说：    “你把脸转过去，别看着我，我就说。但是你千万不要对别人说，好吗？汤姆，你不对别人说吧！”    “不说，我保证，保证不说。来吧，贝基。”    他把脸转过去。她胆怯地弯下腰，一直到她的呼吸吹动了汤姆的鬈发，才悄声地说：“我——爱——你！”    她说完就围着书桌和板凳跑起来，汤姆在后面追她；最后她躲在拐角里，用白色围裙遮住脸。汤姆一把抱紧她的脖子，求她：    “好了，贝基，现在一切都做了——就差接吻了。不要害怕——没什么大不了的。求你了，贝基。”他使劲拉她的围裙和手。    渐渐地她让了步，她把手放下来。刚才一阵折腾使她的脸都红了，她抬起头，顺从了汤姆。汤姆吻了她红红的嘴唇，说道：    “好了，贝基，该做的都做了。要知道，从今往后你只能爱我不能跟别人好，只能嫁给我不能和别人结婚，永远、永远、不变，好吗？”    “好的。汤姆，我只跟你相爱，不爱别人，我只嫁给你，不和别人结婚——你也一样除了我不能娶别人。”    “对对，对对。还有，通常我们在上学或放学的时候，要是没有旁人在场的话，你就和我一块走——开舞会的时候，你选我做伴，我选你做伴，因为订了婚的人都是这样的。”    “真是太有意思了。我以前还从没听说过。”    “啊，这才有趣哪！嘿，我和艾美·劳伦斯——”    贝基睁大了两只眼睛望着他，汤姆这才发现自己已铸成了大错，于是他住了口，有点不知所措的样子。    “啊，汤姆！那么，我还不是头一个和你订婚的呀！”    这小女孩开始哭了起来。汤姆说：    “哦，贝基，不要哭，我已经不再喜欢她了。”    “哼，喜欢不喜欢她，你汤姆心中有数。”    汤姆想伸出胳膊去搂她的脖子，可是被她推开了。她转脸对着墙，继续在哭。汤姆又试了一次，嘴里还讲着好话，可是她还是不理他。这一下伤了他的面子，于是他大步流星，来到外面。他在附近站了一会儿，心里很乱，十分着急，不时地朝门口瞅一瞅，希望她会后悔，会出来找他。可是她没有。这样他渐渐觉得不对劲，害怕自己真地犯了错。经过一番激烈的思想斗争，他镇定下来，走进教室去认错。她还站在教室后面的拐角处，脸冲着墙，在抽泣。汤姆的良心受到了指责。他走到她身旁站了一会，不知道该怎么办才好。片刻后，他迟疑不定地说：    “贝基，我不喜欢别人，只喜欢你。”    没有应声——只有抽泣。    “贝基，”——汤姆恳求道，“贝基，你说话好不好？”    贝基抽泣得更厉害。    汤姆把他最珍贵的宝贝，一个壁炉柴架顶上的铜把手，拿出来从她背后绕过去给她看，说：    “求求你了，贝基，拿着这个好不好？”    她一把把铜把手打翻在地。于是汤姆大步流星走出教室，翻过小山，走到很远的地方，一天他是不打算再回学校了。很快贝基就开始担心了。她跑到门口，没有看见他。她又飞快地跑到操场，他也不在那里。于是，她就喊：    “汤姆！回来吧，汤姆！”    她留神听了听，可是没有回答。伴随她的只有寂寞和孤独。她坐下又哭起来，边哭边生自己的气；这时候同学们又陆陆续续地来上学了，她虽然伤心欲绝，但只得掩而不露。周围的陌生人中，没有人替她分忧解愁。她只好在痛苦中熬过那漫长而令人乏味的下午。
Chapter 8
TOM dodged hither and thither through lanes until he was well out of the track of returning scholars, and then fell into a moody jog. He crossed a small "branch" two or three times, because of a prevailing juvenile superstition that to cross water baffled pursuit. Half an hour later he was disappearing behind the Douglas mansion on the summit of Cardiff Hill, and the school-house was hardly distinguishable away off in the valley behind him. He entered a dense wood, picked his pathless way to the centre of it, and sat down on a mossy spot under a spreading oak. There was not even a zephyr stirring; the dead noonday heat had even stilled the songs of the birds; nature lay in a trance that was broken by no sound but the occasional far-off hammering of a woodpecker, and this seemed to render the pervading silence and sense of loneliness the more profound. The boy's soul was steeped in melancholy; his feelings were in happy accord with his surroundings. He sat long with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, meditating. It seemed to him that life was but a trouble, at best, and he more than half envied Jimmy Hodges, so lately released; it must be very peaceful, he thought, to lie and slumber and dream forever and ever, with the wind whispering through the trees and caressing the grass and the flowers over the grave, and nothing to bother and grieve about, ever any more. If he only had a clean Sunday-school record he could be willing to go, and be done with it all. Now as to this girl. What had he done? Nothing. He had meant the best in the world, and been treated like a dog -- like a very dog. She would be sorry some day -- maybe when it was too late. Ah, if he could only die TEMPORARILY!
But the elastic heart of youth cannot be compressed into one constrained shape long at a time. Tom presently began to drift insensibly back into the concerns of this life again. What if he turned his back, now, and disappeared mysteriously? What if he went away -- ever so far away, into unknown countries beyond the seas -- and never came back any more! How would she feel then! The idea of being a clown recurred to him now, only to fill him with disgust. For frivolity and jokes and spotted tights were an offense, when they intruded themselves upon a spirit that was exalted into the vague august realm of the romantic. No, he would be a soldier, and return after long years, all war-worn and illustrious. No -- better still, he would join the Indians, and hunt buffaloes and go on the warpath in the mountain ranges and the trackless great plains of the Far West, and away in the future come back a great chief, bristling with feathers, hideous with paint, and prance into Sunday-school, some drowsy summer morning, with a blood-curdling war-whoop, and sear the eyeballs of all his companions with unappeasable envy. But no, there was something gaudier even than this. He would be a pirate! That was it! now his future lay plain before him, and glowing with unimaginable splendor. How his name would fill the world, and make people shudder! How gloriously he would go plowing the dancing seas, in his long, low, black-hulled racer, the Spirit of the storm, with his grisly flag flying at the fore! And at the zenith of his fame, how he would suddenly appear at the old village and stalk into church, brown and weather-beaten, in his black velvet doublet and trunks, his great jack-boots, his crimson sash, his belt bristling with horse-pistols, his crime-rusted cutlass at his side, his slouch hat with waving plumes, his black flag unfurled, with the skull and crossbones on it, and hear with swelling ecstasy the whisperings, "It's Tom Sawyer the Pirate! -- the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main!"
Yes, it was settled; his career was determined. He would run away from home and enter upon it. He would start the very next morning. Therefore he must now begin to get ready. He would collect his resources together. He went to a rotten log near at hand and began to dig under one end of it with his Barlow knife. He soon struck wood that sounded hollow. He put his hand there and uttered this incantation impressively:
"What hasn't come here, come! What's here, stay here!"
Then he scraped away the dirt, and exposed a pine shingle. He took it up and disclosed a shapely little treasure-house whose bottom and sides were of shingles. In it lay a marble. Tom's astonishment was boundless! He scratched his head with a perplexed air, and said:
"Well, that beats anything!"
Then he tossed the marble away pettishly, and stood cogitating. The truth was, that a superstition of his had failed, here, which he and all his comrades had always looked upon as infallible. If you buried a marble with certain necessary incantations, and left it alone a fortnight, and then opened the place with the incantation he had just used, you would find that all the marbles you had ever lost had gathered themselves together there, meantime, no matter how widely they had been separated. But now, this thing had actually and unquestionably failed. Tom's whole structure of faith was shaken to its foundations. He had many a time heard of this thing succeeding but never of its failing before. It did not occur to him that he had tried it several times before, himself, but could never find the hiding-places afterward. He puzzled over the matter some time, and finally decided that some witch had interfered and broken the charm. He thought he would satisfy himself on that point; so he searched around till he found a small sandy spot with a little funnel-shaped depression in it. He laid himself down and put his mouth close to this depression and called --
"Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know! Doodle-bug, doodle-bug, tell me what I want to know!" 
The sand began to work, and presently a small black bug appeared for a second and then darted under again in a fright.
"He dasn't tell! So it was a witch that done it. I just knowed it."
He well knew the futility of trying to contend against witches, so he gave up discouraged. But it occurred to him that he might as well have the marble he had just thrown away, and therefore he went and made a patient search for it. But he could not find it. Now he went back to his treasure-house and carefully placed himself just as he had been standing when he tossed the marble away; then he took another marble from his pocket and tossed it in the same way, saying:
"Brother, go find your brother!"
He watched where it stopped, and went there and looked. But it must have fallen short or gone too far; so he tried twice more. The last repetition was successful. The two marbles lay within a foot of each other.
Just here the blast of a toy tin trumpet came faintly down the green aisles of the forest. Tom flung off his jacket and trousers, turned a suspender into a belt, raked away some brush behind the rotten log, disclosing a rude bow and arrow, a lath sword and a tin trumpet, and in a moment had seized these things and bounded away, barelegged, with fluttering shirt. He presently halted under a great elm, blew an answering blast, and then began to tiptoe and look warily out, this way and that. He said cautiously – to an imaginary company:
"Hold, my merry men! Keep hid till I blow."
Now appeared Joe Harper, as airily clad and elaborately armed as Tom. Tom called:
"Hold! Who comes here into Sherwood Forest without my pass?"
"Guy of Guisborne wants no man's pass. Who art thou that -- that --"
"Dares to hold such language," said Tom, prompting -- for they talked "by the book," from memory.
"Who art thou that dares to hold such language?"
"I, indeed! I am Robin Hood, as thy caitiff carcase soon shall know."
"Then art thou indeed that famous outlaw? Right gladly will I dispute with thee the passes of the merry wood. Have at thee!"
They took their lath swords, dumped their other traps on the ground, struck a fencing attitude, foot to foot, and began a grave, careful combat, "two up and two down." Presently Tom said:
"Now, if you've got the hang, go it lively!"
So they "went it lively," panting and perspiring with the work. By and by Tom shouted:
"Fall! fall! Why don't you fall?"
"I sha'n't! Why don't you fall yourself? You're getting the worst of it."
"Why, that ain't anything. I can't fall; that ain't the way it is in the book. The book says, 'Then with one back-handed stroke he slew poor Guy of Guisborne.' You're to turn around and let me hit you in the back."
There was no getting around the authorities, so Joe turned, received the whack and fell.
"Now," said Joe, getting up, "you got to let me kill you. That's fair."
"Why, I can't do that, it ain't in the book."
"Well, it's blamed mean -- that's all."
"Well, say, Joe, you can be Friar Tuck or Much the miller's son, and lam me with a quarter-staff; or I'll be the Sheriff of Nottingham and you be Robin Hood a little while and kill me."
This was satisfactory, and so these adventures were carried out. Then Tom became Robin Hood again, and was allowed by the treacherous nun to bleed his strength away through his neglected wound. And at last Joe, representing a whole tribe of weeping outlaws, dragged him sadly forth, gave his bow into his feeble hands, and Tom said, "Where this arrow falls, there bury poor Robin Hood under the greenwood tree." Then he shot the arrow and fell back and would have died, but he lit on a nettle and sprang up too gaily for a corpse.
The boys dressed themselves, hid their accoutrements, and went off grieving that there were no outlaws any more, and wondering what modern civilization could claim to have done to compensate for their loss. They said they would rather be outlaws a year in Sherwood Forest than President of the United States forever.  
第八章　勇当海盗，预演绿林
    汤姆东躲西闪地穿过几条巷子，离开了同学们返校的路，然后就郁郁不欢地慢慢走着。他在一条小溪流上来回跨过两三次，因为孩子们普遍迷信来回跨水就会让人追不上。半小时后，他渐渐消失在卡第夫山上道格拉斯家那幢大房子后面，身后山谷里的学校只是隐约可见。他走进一片茂密的森林，披荆斩棘，闯出一条路，来到林中深处，在一棵枝叶茂盛的橡树下，一屁股坐到青苔地上。树林里纹丝不动，中午的闷热，令人窒息，连树上的鸟儿都停止了歌唱。大地一片昏睡，只有远处偶尔才传来一两声啄木鸟啄木的得得声，这使得原本寂静的森林显得更加寂然无声，汤姆也更加觉得孤独无援。他心灰意冷，他的情绪和这里的环境正合拍。他双手托着下巴，两肘撑在膝盖上，沉思着在那儿坐了很长时间。在他看来，活着充其量不过是受罪。想到这，他越发羡慕新近故去的吉米·赫杰斯。他想伴随着风声飒飒的树林和坟头摇曳的花草，人要是能无忧无虑地躺在那儿长眠不醒，美梦不断，那一定很惬意。这时他真心希望以前在主日学校里表现得清清白白。那样的话，他这回就可以无所牵挂地去了，一死百了。至于那个姑娘，他到底干了什么呢？什么也没干。他本来出于善意的目的，可她却像对待狗那样对待他——简直就拿他当狗待。总有一天她会后悔的。到那时，她后悔也来不及了。他要是能暂时地死一会儿，那该有多好啊！    年青人天性轻松愉快，想长久地压抑它是不可能的。不久，汤姆不知不觉地关心起眼前的现实来。他要是调头就走，人不知鬼不觉地消失了，那会有什么后果呢？他要是到海外无人知晓的地方去，一去不回，那又怎样呢？而她又作何感想呢？当小丑的念头又在他脑海闪现，结果弄得他很难受。试想一想在汤姆的潜意识中，他已隐隐约约来到了神圣而浪漫的国度，这哪能容得下小丑的那些打诨插科、花花绿绿的紧身衣之类的东西。得了，他更愿意当一名士兵，待到伤痕累累，名噪天下时再返归故里。这不行，最好还是与印第安人为伍，和他们一起捕杀野牛，在崇山峻岭和西部人迹罕至的大平原上作战。等将来当上酋长时再回来。到那时，头上插着羽毛，身上涂满吓人的花纹，再找一个夏日清晨，乘大家昏昏欲睡的时候，昂首阔步，大模大样地走进主日学校并发出令人毛骨悚然的呐喊声，好让同伴们按捺不住羡慕之情，看得两眼直发呆。这不还不够劲，还有比这更神气的事情，他要去当海盗！对，就这样！现在，未来就在眼前并闪烁着异光。瞧吧，他将闻名天下，令闻者颤栗。他将乘坐那条长长的黑色“风暴神”号快艇，船头插上吓人的旗帜，披风斩浪航行在浪花翻滚的大海上，这该有多么威风！等到了名声齐天，那时候，你再瞧他回来的样子吧！他将突然出现在乡里故居，昂首阔步地走进教堂。他脸色黝黑，一副饱经风霜的样子。只见他上身穿件黑色绒布紧身衣，下身是条宽大短裤，脚蹬肥大长统靴，还背着大红肩带，腰带上挂着马枪，身边还别了把用损了的短剑。那顶垂边的帽子上飘着翎毛，黑旗迎风招展，上面交叉着骷髅头和白骨。听到别人悄声低语：“这就是海盗汤姆·索亚——西班牙海面上的黑衣侠盗！”汤姆心里一阵又一阵地狂喜。    对，就这么办，他决定这么办：从家里逃走，去过这种生活，并打算第二天早晨就开始行动。因此他必须现在就着手准备。他将带上他所有的家当。他走到近处的一根烂树干旁边，开始用他的巴露折刀在一头开挖起来。不一会儿就传来了空木头的声音。他把手按在那儿，嘴里咕哝着咒语，样子令人难忘：    没有来的，快来！    在这儿的，留下来！    接着他刨去泥土，下面露出一块松木瓦块。他把它拿开，露出一个底和四周是松木瓦块的小宝箱来。小宝箱很精致，里面有一个弹子。汤姆惊讶不已！他迷惑不解地挠着头说：    “嘿，怎么不灵了！”    于是他一气之下扔掉那个弹子，站在那儿沉思。原来他的迷信没有灵验。他和所有的伙伴一向都认为它是万无一失的，可是这次却没有。埋下一个弹子时，你要是念上几句有关的咒语，等两周后再用汤姆刚说过的咒语，去挖弹子，你会发现：原来丢失、散落到各地的弹子都聚到了这里。可是现在，它千真万确地失败了。汤姆的全部信心从根本上发生了动摇。他以前多次听说过的都是成功的例子，根本没听说过哪次不灵验。他百思不得其解，最后认定有妖魔插了一杠子，破了咒语。他觉得这样解释可以让他聊以自慰。于是他在周围找到一个小沙堆，沙堆中间有一个漏斗形凹陷处。他扑到地上，嘴紧贴着凹陷处喊道：    “小甲虫，小甲虫，告诉我这究竟是怎么回事！小甲虫，小甲虫，请告诉我这究竟是怎么回事呀！”    沙子开始动起来，一只黑色小甲虫很快钻出来，可是刚一出现，又被吓得缩了回去。    “它不说！我知道了，一定有妖魔在捣鬼。”    他十分清楚和巫婆斗没什么好处，于是他垂头丧气，不得不让了步。但是他忽然又想起他刚才扔掉的那颗石子，何不再把它找回来呢？于是他就边走边耐心地找了起来。可是他没找到。他又回到他的小宝箱旁边，原封不动地站在刚才扔弹子的地方。接着他从口袋里又掏出一个弹子，朝同一个方向扔去，嘴里还说道：    “老兄，去找你的兄弟吧！”    弹子落地后，他走过去找起来。但是弹子可能扔得不是太近就是太远，因此他又试了两回。最后一次成功了。两个弹子相距不到一英尺。    就在这时，树林里绿色的林荫道上隐隐约约传来一声锡皮玩具喇叭声。汤姆迅速地脱掉上衣和裤子，把背带改成腰带，拨开朽木后面的灌木丛，找出一副简陋的弓箭，一把木片的剑和一只锡皮喇叭。片刻之间他就抓着这些东西，赤着脚，敝着怀，跳出去了。他很快在一颗大榆树底下停下来，也吹了一声喇叭作为回应，然后踮着脚警觉地东张张西望望，他谨慎地——对想象中的同伴说：    “稳住，好汉们！听号声再行动。”    这时，乔·哈帕出现了。和汤姆一样，他精心装备，轻装上阵。    汤姆喊道：    “站住！来者何人，来经许可，竟敢闯进谢伍德森林？”    “我乃皇家卫士戈次勃恩的至友，走遍天下，所向无阻。    你是何人，竟敢——竟敢……”    “竟敢口出狂言，”汤姆说。他是在提示哈帕，因为他们全凭记忆，在背这些话。    “你是何人，竟敢口出狂言？”    “我吗？我乃罗宾汉是也，你这匹夫马上就会知道我的厉害。”    “这么说来，你真的是那位名扬四海的绿林好汉喽？我正想与你较量较量，看看这林中乐士归谁所有。接招！”    他们各持一把木片的剑，把身上多余的东西都扔到地上，两人脚对脚呈对峙状站立，开始了一场“两上两下”的酣战。    汤姆说：    “听着，你要是懂得剑法，我们就痛痛快快地比一比吧！”    于是他们就“痛痛快快地比一比”了，结果比得两个人气喘吁吁、汗流浃背。后来汤姆嚷道：    “倒下！倒下！你怎么不倒下呀？”    “我不干！你自己怎么不倒下呀？你招架不住了。”    “倒不倒没什么关系。可书上说我不能倒下去，书上还说‘接着反手一剑，他就把可怜的戈次勃恩的至友刺死了。’，你应该转过身去，让我一剑刺中你的后背才对。”    乔没法子，只好转过身去，挨了重重的一刺，倒在地上。“听着，”乔从地上爬起来说，“你得让我把你杀掉，那才公平。”    “嘿，那怎么行呢？书上又没这么说。”    “得了，你真他妈的太小气了——拉倒吧。”    “喂，我说乔，你可以扮演达克修士或是磨坊主的儿子马奇，拿一根铁头木棍打我一顿，或者我来扮诺丁汉的行政司法官，你扮一会儿罗宾汉，把我杀死也行。”    这主意倒令人满意，于是他们就这么办了。后来汤姆又扮演了起初的角色罗宾汉，他让那个背信弃义的尼姑给害了。由于伤口没有得到照顾，他失血太多，耗尽了精力。最后乔扮演了一伙绿林好汉，哭哭啼啼，悲伤地拖着他前进，把他的弓递到他那双软弱无力的手里，汤姆就说了：    “箭落之地，绿林成荫，可怜的罗宾汉葬那里。”说完他射出那支箭，身体往后一仰，准备倒地而死，可偏巧倒在有刺的草上。他猛地跳起来，那活蹦乱跳的样子简直不像是在装死。    两个孩子穿戴好衣帽，把他们的行头藏起来就走了，他们很伤心现在已经没有绿林好汉了，很想知道现代文明中有什么可以弥补这一缺陷。他们说宁可在谢伍德森林里当一年绿林好汉，也不愿意当一辈子的美国总统。 
Chapter 9
AT half-past nine, that night, Tom and Sid were sent to bed, as usual. They said their prayers, and Sid was soon asleep. Tom lay awake and waited, in restless impatience. When it seemed to him that it must be nearly daylight, he heard the clock strike ten! This was despair. He would have tossed and fidgeted, as his nerves demanded, but he was afraid he might wake Sid. So he lay still, and stared up into the dark. Everything was dismally still. By and by, out of the stillness, little, scarcely preceptible noises began to emphasize themselves. The ticking of the clock began to bring itself into notice. Old beams began to crack mysteriously. The stairs creaked faintly. Evidently spirits were abroad. A measured, muffled snore issued from Aunt Polly's chamber. And now the tiresome chirping of a cricket that no human ingenuity could locate, began. Next the ghastly ticking of a death-watch in the wall at the bed's head made Tom shudder -- it meant that somebody's days were numbered. Then the howl of a far-off dog rose on the night air, and was answered by a fainter howl from a remoter distance. Tom was in an agony. At last he was satisfied that time had ceased and eternity begun; he began to doze, in spite of himself; the clock chimed eleven, but he did not hear it. And then there came, mingling with his half-formed dreams, a most melancholy caterwauling. The raising of a neighboring window disturbed him. A cry of "Scat! you devil!" and the crash of an empty bottle against the back of his aunt's woodshed brought him wide awake, and a single minute later he was dressed and out of the window and creeping along the roof of the "ell" on all fours. He "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.
It was a graveyard of the old-fashioned Western kind. It was on a hill, about a mile and a half from the village. It had a crazy board fence around it, which leaned inward in places, and outward the rest of the time, but stood upright nowhere. Grass and weeds grew rank over the whole cemetery. All the old graves were sunken in, there was not a tombstone on the place; round-topped, worm-eaten boards staggered over the graves, leaning for support and finding none. "Sacred to the memory of" So-and-So had been painted on them once, but it could no longer have been read, on the most of them, now, even if there had been light.
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.
Then they waited in silence for what seemed a long time. The hooting of a distant owl was all the sound that troubled the dead stillness. Tom's reflections grew oppressive. He must force some talk. So he said in a whisper:
"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."
Tom, after a pause:
"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."
This was a damper, and conversation died again.
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?"
"I --"
"There! Now you hear it."
"Lord, Tom, they're coming! They're coming, sure. What'll we do?"
"I dono. Think they'll see us?"
"Oh, Tom, they can see in the dark, same as cats. I wisht I hadn't come."
"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."
"That's so -- that murderin' half-breed! I'd druther they was devils a dern sight. What kin they be up to?"
The whisper died wholly out, now, for the three men had reached the grave and stood within a few feet of the boys' hiding-place.
"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. The moon drifted from behind the clouds and exposed the pallid face. The barrow was got ready and the corpse placed on it, covered with a blanket, and bound to its place with the rope. 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; and when I swore I'd get even with you if it took a hundred years, your father had me jailed for a vagrant. Did you think I'd forget? The Injun blood ain't in me for nothing. And now I've GOT you, and you got to settle, you know!"
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, trampling the grass and tearing the ground with their heels. 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 half-breed 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, and in the same moment the clouds blotted out the dreadful spectacle and the two frightened boys went speeding away in the dark.
Presently, when the moon emerged again, Injun Joe was standing over the two forms, contemplating them. The doctor murmured inarticulately, gave a long gasp or two and was still. The half-breed muttered:
"That score is settled -- damn 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. His hand closed upon the knife; he raised it, glanced at it, and let it fall, with a shudder. Then he sat up, pushing the body from him, and gazed at it, and then around him, confusedly. His eyes met Joe's.
"Lord, how is this, Joe?" he said.
"It's a dirty business," said Joe, without moving.
"What did you do it for?"
"I! I never done it!"
"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 -- worse'n when we started here. I'm all in a muddle; can't recollect anything of it, hardly. 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, Joe. Tell me how it was, Joe. Oh, it's awful -- and him so young and promising."
"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 -- that's a good feller. I always liked you, Joe, and stood up for you, too. Don't you remember? You won't tell, will you, Joe?" And the poor creature dropped on his knees before the stolid murderer, and clasped his appealing hands.
"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. You be off yonder way and I'll go this. Move, now, and don't leave any tracks behind you."
Potter started on a trot that quickly increased to a run. The half-breed stood looking after him. He muttered:
"If he's as much stunned with the lick and fuddled with the rum as he had the look of being, he won't think of the knife till he's gone so far he'll be afraid to come back after it to such a place by himself -- chicken-heart!"
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.  
第九章　坟地惨案，波特受过
    那天晚上９点半钟，汤姆和希德就像平常一样被吩咐上床睡觉，他们做完祷告，希德很快就睡着了。汤姆没有睡着，他躺在床上，不耐烦地等着。他似乎觉得天快要亮时，才听到钟敲了十下！这太令人失望了。他很想顺应神经的要求，翻翻身，动一动，可是他害怕吵醒希德，于是他一动不动地躺着，两眼直愣愣地盯着黑咕隆咚的夜空。万籁俱寂，阴森可怕。后来在那一片寂静中，有一点小小的，几乎听不出来的动静渐渐地大了起来。只听到钟摆滴嗒滴嗒在响。那些老屋的屋梁也神秘地发出裂开似的声响。楼梯也隐隐约约，吱吱嘎嘎在响。很明显是鬼怪们在四处活动了。从波莉姨妈卧室里传来一阵匀称的、沉闷的鼾声。这时一只蟋蟀开始发出一阵令人心烦的唧唧的叫声，而人们却根本弄不清楚它在什么地方。接着床头的墙里有一只小蛀虫发出一阵阴森可怕的踢嗒声，这声音使汤姆吓得心惊胆跳——这似乎意味着某个人的日子不多了。然后远处有一只狗嗥叫起来，这叫声在夜晚的上空震荡，与远处的隐隐约约传来的狗叫声相呼应着。汤姆简直难受极了。最后他认定时间已经停住了，永恒已经开始了。他不由自主地打起盹来，钟敲了十一下，但是他没有听见。后来在他迷迷糊糊、似睡非睡的状态中，从外面传来一阵非常凄惨的猫儿叫春的声音。一个邻居打开窗户，声音惊动了他。一声“滚！你这瘟猫！”的骂声和一只空瓶子砸到他的姨妈的木棚小屋上的破碎声使他完全清醒过来，片刻工夫，他便穿带好衣帽，从窗户出来，爬行在屋顶上。他一边爬，一边小心谨慎地“咪呜”了一两次；然后纵身一跳，上了木棚小屋，再从那跳到地上。哈克贝利·费恩早已等候在那里，手里还拿着他那只死猫。接着两个孩子一起消失在黑暗中。半小时之后，他俩就穿行在坟地里的深草丛中。    这是一个西部的老式的坟地，座落在离村子大约一英里的半山上。坟地周围有一道歪歪斜斜的木板栅栏，有些地方往里倒，有的地方往外斜，总之，没有一个地方是笔直的。整片墓地杂草丛生，所有的旧坟都塌陷下去，坟上连一块墓碑都没有。圆顶的、虫蛀的木牌子无依无靠，歪歪倒倒地插在坟墓上。这些牌子上曾经写有“纪念某某”之类的字样，即使现在有亮光，大多数已无法再辨认出来。    一阵微风吹过树林，发出萧瑟声响，汤姆担心这可能是死鬼们在抱怨有人来打搅了他们。两个孩子很少说话，就是说也只敢悄悄地说，因为此时此地，到处是一片肃穆和寂静，令人压抑。他们找到了要找的那座新隆起的坟。在离坟几英尺内的地方，有三棵大榆树长在一起，于是他们就躲在那里。    他们静静地等了似乎很长一段时间，除了远处猫头鹰的叫声外，周围是一片死寂。汤姆被闷得受不住了，他必须打破沉默开口谈点话，他低声问道：    “哈奇，你相信死人愿意我们到这儿来吗？”    哈克贝利低声说：    “我问谁呢？这里肃静得令人害怕，是不是？”    “是啊。”    有好一阵子他俩没作声，各自都在心里想着这件事。之后汤姆又悄悄地说：    “喂，我说哈奇——你知道霍斯·威廉斯听见我们讲话吗？”    “那当然喽。至少他的阴魂能听见。”    汤姆停了一会才说：    “我刚才提他时，要是带上‘先生’二字就好了。不过我从来没有不尊敬他。别人都叫他霍斯。”    “汤姆，议论死人时要特别、特别小心才对。”    这句话犹如一盆冷水让汤姆扫兴，因此谈话就中断了。    过了一会，汤姆抓住哈克的胳膊说道：“嘘！”    “怎么啦，汤姆？”他们俩紧紧靠在一起，心嘣嘣直跳。    “嘘！又来了！你没有听见吗？”    “我——”    “听！现在听见了吧。”    “哦，天啊，汤姆，他们来了，他们来了，真的！我们怎么办啊？”    “我不知道。你想他们会看见我们吗？”    “哦，汤姆，他们像猫一样，晚上也能看见东西。我要是不来就好了。”    “啊，不要害怕。我想他们不会来找我们的麻烦。我们又没惹他们。我们只要一动也不动，他们也许根本不会发现我们。”    “汤姆，我是想不动。可是天啊，我浑身直发抖哩。”    “听！”    两个孩子凑得很近，低着头，屏住呼吸。这时从远远的坟地那边传来一阵低沉的说话声。    “瞧！瞧那！”汤姆小声说，“那是什么？”    “是鬼火。哦，汤姆，这太吓人了。”    黑暗中，模模糊糊有几个影子走过来，一盏老式洋铁灯笼摇来晃去，地上被照得光点斑斑。哈克马上战战兢兢地说：    “肯定是鬼来了，我的老天爷呀，一共有三个！汤姆，我们死定了！你还能祷告吗？”    “我来试试，不过你别怕。他们不会害我们的。现在我躺下睡觉，我——”’    “嘘！”    “是什么，哈克？”    “是人！至少有一个是人。那是莫夫·波特老头的声音。”    “不——那不是他的声音。”    “我敢打赌我没搞错，你得绝对保持安静。他没那么灵，不会看见我们的。可能又和往常一样喝醉了——这个该死无用的老东西！”    “好吧，我一定保持安静。现在他们不走了。找不到他们了。这会儿他们又来了。现在他们来劲了。又泄气了。又来劲了。劲头十足！他们这回找对了方向。喂，哈克，我听出了另一个人的声音，那是印第安·乔。”    “不错，是那个杀人不眨眼的杂种！我倒情愿他们都是鬼，鬼都比他们好得多。他们到这能打什么坏主意呢？    两个孩子全都止住，不再低语。这时那三个人来到坟边，站立的地方离孩子们藏身之处还不到几英尺远。    “到了。”第三个人说，提灯的人举起灯笼，灯光下现出的是年轻的医生鲁宾逊的面孔。”    波特和印第安·乔推着一个手推车，车上有一根绳子和两把铁锹。他们把车上的东西卸下来，开始挖墓。医生把灯笼放在坟头上，走到榆树下，背靠着一棵坐下来。树离得很近，两个孩子伸手就能碰到他。    “挖快点，伙计们！”他低声说，“月亮随时都可能出来。”    他们粗着嗓音应了一声后继续挖掘着。有一段时间，只能听到他们一锹一锹抛泥土和石子所发出的嚓嚓声响。那声音非常单调刺耳。后来有一把铁锹碰到了棺材，发出了低沉的木头声音。一两分钟后，那两个人就把棺材抬出来放在地上了。他们用铁锹撬开棺盖，把尸体弄出来，随便掀到地上。月亮从云朵后面钻出来，照着尸体那张苍白的脸。他们把车准备好，将尸体放上去，还盖上毯子，用绳子捆好它。波特拿出一把大弹簧刀，割断车上垂下来的绳头，说：    “医生，这该死的东西现在弄好了。再拿五块钱，要不然就别弄走它。”    “对，讲得对！”印第安·乔说。    “喂，我说，这是什么意思？”医生问道。“按你们要求，我事先已经给过你们钱了。”    “不错，不过还远不止这些。”印第安·乔边说边走到已经站了起来的医生面前。“五年前的一个晚上，我到你父亲的厨房讨点吃的，你把我给赶了出来，你还说我到厨房去没什么好事；打那时起，我发誓：就是花上一百年的功夫，我也要摆平你。你父亲因我是盲流而将我关进牢房。你想我会善罢甘休吗？印第安人的血也不是白流的，现在你落到我手里，你得为此付出代价。”    说到这，他已经开始在医生面前挥舞着拳头来威胁他。医生突然猛击一拳，将这个恶棍打翻在地，波特扔掉刀，大声喊道：“嘿，你竟敢打我的朋友！”紧接着，他和医生扭打在一起。两个人拼命打起来，脚踩着地上的草，踢得泥土飞扬。印第安·乔迅速地从地上爬起来，眼里燃烧着怒火，抓起波特扔在地上的那把刀，像猫似的，弯着腰悄悄地在两个打架的人周围转来转去，寻找着机会。突然医生猛地把对手摔开，抓起威廉斯坟上那块重重的墓碑，一下子把波特打倒在地。与此同时，这个杂种乘机把刀子一下子全捅进了医生的胸膛。医生晃了晃就倒下去，身体搭在波特身上。波特被弄得满身都是血。这时乌云遮住了这可怕的惨相，那两个吓坏了的孩子在黑暗中连忙跑掉了。    不久，云层退去，月亮又露出了面，印第安·乔站在那两个人身旁，凝视着他们。医生咕咕哝哝地讲了些什么话，长长地喘了一两声气，然后就安静地死去了。那个杂种还说：    “那笔帐就算扯平了——你这该死的家伙。”    接着他又搜去尸体身上的东西，然后他将那把杀人的刀放在波特张开的石手里，坐上了撬开的棺材。三——四——五分钟过去了，这时波特才开始动弹，并且呻吟起来。他的手握住了那把刀。他举起刀来瞥了一眼，随即打了个冷颤，刀落到了地上。接着他坐起身来，推开压着他的尸体，然后盯着它看了一会，又往周围望了望，心里感到迷惑不解。他的目光碰到了乔的目光。    “天啊，这是怎么回事，乔？”他说。    “这事糟糕透了，”乔动也没动地说，“你干吗要这样干？”    “我！我可没干这事。”    “听着！这你怎么能赖掉呢。”    波特吓得直抖，脸色变得煞白。    “我认为我会醒酒的，今晚我本不想喝酒，可是现在脑子里还是糊里糊涂的，比我们来这儿的时候还厉害。我现在昏昏沉沉，几乎回忆不起来任何事情。告诉我，乔，伙计，说老实话，是我干的吗？乔，我根本不想那样干。天地良心，我根本不想那样干，乔，告诉我这是怎么回事？乔？哦，这太可怕了——他这么年轻有为，前途远大。”    “嘿，就是你俩扭打起来了，他用墓碑牌子砸了你一下，你就被砸叭下了。接着你爬起来，晃晃悠悠地站不稳，就这样，你一把夺过这把刀，一下子捅进他的身体。这时候他又狠命地给了你一击，于是你就躺在这儿，像死过去一样，人事不省，一直躺到现在。”    “啊，我一点也不知道我都干了些什么。要是我当时清醒的话，我情愿马上就死掉。我想这都是因为威士忌在作怪，当时又很冲动。乔，我从前还没有用过凶器。我跟人打过架，可是从来没使过凶器。这一点人们都知道。乔，这事你可别说出去！乔，你说你不会说出去，这才够意思啊。乔，我向来都喜欢你，也总是站在你一边的。你难道忘记了吗？乔，你不会讲出去的，对不对？”于是这个可怜的家伙，双手合掌，祈求地跪倒在那个残忍的凶手面前。    “对。莫夫·波特，你一向待我不错，我不会对不起你。怎么样，我这样说算是公平合吧。”    “啊，乔，你真是慈悲心肠。我要祝福你一辈子。”波特开始哭起来。    “哦，得了，不要再说了。现在不是哭鼻子的时候。你从那边走，现在就动身，别留下任何脚印。”    波特开始还是小跑，很快就大跑起来。那个杂种站在那儿，看着他的背影，自言自语地咕哝道：“他挨了一击，酒也没醒，瞧他那样，八成想不起来这把刀了。就算想他起来，他已经跑出去有十里八里的了。他一个人是不敢再回到这里来取刀的——这个胆小鬼。”    两三分钟后，只有月光照着那个被害的人，那个用毯子裹着的尸体，那个没有盖上盖子的棺材，还有那座挖开的坟墓。一切又恢复了平静。
Chapter 10
THE two boys flew on and on, 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. Every stump that started up in their path seemed a man and an enemy, and made them catch their breath; and as they sped by some outlying cottages that lay near the village, the barking of the aroused watch-dogs seemed to give wings to their feet.
"If we can only get to the old tannery before we break down!" whispered Tom, in short catches between breaths. "I can't stand it much longer."
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."
Tom thought a while, then he said:
"Who'll tell? We?"
"What are you talking about? S'pose something happened and Injun Joe didn't hang? Why, he'd kill us some time or other, just as dead sure as we're a laying here."
"That's just what I was thinking to myself, Huck."
"If anybody tells, let Muff Potter do it, if he's fool enough. He's generally drunk enough."
Tom said nothing -- went on thinking. Presently he whispered:
"Huck, Muff Potter don't know it. How can he tell?"
"What's the reason he don't know it?"
"Because he'd just got that whack when Injun Joe done it. D'you reckon he could see anything? D'you reckon he knowed anything?"
"By hokey, that's so, Tom!"
"And besides, look-a-here -- maybe that whack done for him!"
"No, 'taint likely, Tom. He had liquor in him; I could see that; and besides, he always has. Well, when pap's full, you might take and belt him over the head with a church and you couldn't phase him. He says so, his own self. So it's the same with Muff Potter, of course. But if a man was dead sober, I reckon maybe that whack might fetch him; I dono."
After another reflective silence, Tom said:
"Hucky, you sure you can 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.
Huckleberry was filled with admiration of Tom's facility in writing, and the sublimity of his language. He at once took a pin from his lapel and was going to prick his flesh, but Tom said:
"Hold on! Don't do that. A pin's brass. It might have verdigrease on it."
"What's verdigrease?"
"It's p'ison. That's what it is. You just swaller some of it once -- you'll see."
So Tom unwound the thread from one of his needles, and each boy pricked the ball of his thumb and squeezed out a drop of blood. In time, after many squeezes, Tom managed to sign his initials, using the ball of his little finger for a pen. Then he showed Huckleberry how to make an H and an F, and the oath was complete. They buried the shingle close to the wall, with some dismal ceremonies and incantations, and the fetters that bound their tongues were considered to be locked and the key thrown away.
A figure crept stealthily through a break in the other end of the ruined building, now, but they did not notice it.
"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. We'd drop down dead -- don't you know that?"
"Yes, I reckon that's so."
They continued to whisper for some little time. Presently a dog set up a long, lugubrious howl just outside -- within ten feet of them. The boys clasped each other suddenly, in an agony of fright.
"Which of us does he mean?" gasped Huckleberry.
"I dono -- peep through the crack. Quick!"
"No, you, Tom!"
"I can't -- I can't do it, Huck!"
"Please, Tom. There 'tis again!"
"Oh, lordy, I'm thankful!" whispered Tom. "I know his voice. It's Bull Harbison."*
[* If Mr. Harbison owned a slave named Bull, Tom would have spoken of him as "Harbison's Bull," but a son or a dog of that name was "Bull Harbison."]
"Oh, that's good -- I tell you, Tom, I was most scared to death; I'd a bet anything it was a stray dog."
The dog howled again. The boys' hearts sank once more.
"Oh, my! that ain't no Bull Harbison!" whispered Huckleberry. "do, Tom!"
Tom, quaking with fear, yielded, and put his eye to the crack. His whisper was hardly audible when he said:
"Oh, Huck, it's a stray dog!"
"Quick, Tom, quick! Who does he mean?"
"Huck, he must mean us both -- we're right together."
"Oh, Tom, I reckon we're goners. I reckon there ain't no mistake 'bout where I'll go to. I been so wicked."
"Dad fetch it! This comes of playing hookey and doing everything a feller's told not to do. I might a been good, like Sid, if I'd a tried -- but no, I wouldn't, of course. But if ever I get off this time, I lay I'll just waller in Sunday-schools!" And Tom began to snuffle a little.
"You bad!" and Huckleberry began to snuffle too. "Consound it, Tom Sawyer, you're just old pie, 'longside o' what I am. Oh, lordy, lordy, lordy, I wisht I only had half your chance."
Tom choked off and whispered:
"Look, Hucky, look! He's got his back to us!"
Hucky looked, with joy in his heart.
"Well, he has, by jingoes! Did he before?"
"Yes, he did. But I, like a fool, never thought. Oh, this is bully, you know. Now who can he mean?"
The howling stopped. Tom pricked up his ears.
"Sh! What's that?" he whispered.
"Sounds like -- like hogs grunting. No -- it's somebody snoring, Tom."
"That is it! Where 'bouts is it, Huck?"
"I bleeve it's down at 'tother end. Sounds so, anyway. Pap used to sleep there, sometimes, 'long with the hogs, but laws bless you, he just lifts things when he snores. Besides, I reckon he ain't ever coming back to this town any more."
The spirit of adventure rose in the boys' souls once more.
"Hucky, do you das't to go if I lead?"
"I don't like to, much. Tom, s'pose it's Injun Joe!"
Tom quailed. But presently the temptation rose up strong again and the boys agreed to try, with the understanding that they would take to their heels if the snoring stopped. So they went tiptoeing stealthily down, the one behind the other. When they had got to within five steps of the snorer, Tom stepped on a stick, and it broke with a sharp snap. The man moaned, writhed a little, and his face came into the moonlight. It was Muff Potter. The boys' hearts had stood still, and their hopes too, when the man moved, but their fears passed away now. They tiptoed out, through the broken weather-boarding, and stopped at a little distance to exchange a parting word. That long, lugubrious howl rose on the night air again! They turned and saw the strange dog standing within a few feet of where Potter was lying, and FACING Potter, with his nose pointing heavenward.
"Oh, geeminy, it's him!" exclaimed both boys, in a breath.
"Say, Tom -- they say a stray dog come howling around Johnny Miller's house, 'bout midnight, as much as two weeks ago; and a whippoorwill come in and lit on the banisters and sung, the very same evening; and there ain't anybody dead there yet."
"Well, I know that. And suppose there ain't. Didn't Gracie Miller fall in the kitchen fire and burn herself terrible the very next Saturday?"
"Yes, but she ain't dead. And what's more, she's getting better, too."
"All right, you wait and see. She's a goner, just as dead sure as Muff Potter's a goner. That's what the niggers say, and they know all about these kind of things, Huck."
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.
When Tom awoke, Sid was dressed and gone. There was a late look in the light, a late sense in the atmosphere. He was startled. Why had he not been called -- persecuted till he was up, as usual? The thought filled him with bodings. Within five minutes he was dressed and down-stairs, feeling sore and drowsy. The family were still at table, but they had finished breakfast. There was no voice of rebuke; but there were averted eyes; there was a silence and an air of solemnity that struck a chill to the culprit's heart. He sat down and tried to seem gay, but it was up-hill work; it roused no smile, no response, and he lapsed into silence and let his heart sink down to the depths.
After breakfast his aunt took him aside, and Tom almost brightened in the hope that he was going to be flogged; but it was not so. His aunt wept over him and asked him how he could go and break her old heart so; and finally told him to go on, and ruin himself and bring her gray hairs with sorrow to the grave, for it was no use for her to try any more. This was worse than a thousand whippings, and Tom's heart was sorer now than his body. He cried, he pleaded for forgiveness, promised to reform over and over again, and then received his dismissal, feeling that he had won but an imperfect forgiveness and established but a feeble confidence.
He left the presence too miserable to even feel revengeful toward Sid; and so the latter's prompt retreat through the back gate was unnecessary. He moped to school gloomy and sad, and took his flogging, along with Joe Harper, for playing hookey the day before, with the air of one whose heart was busy with heavier woes and wholly dead to trifles. Then he betook himself 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. His elbow was pressing against some hard substance. After a long time he slowly and sadly changed his position, and took up this object with a sigh. It was in a paper. He unrolled it. A long, lingering, colossal sigh followed, and his heart broke. It was his brass andiron knob!
This final feather broke the camel's back.  
第十章　狗吠不祥，雪上加霜
    两个孩子由于恐惧，一言不发，只顾朝着村庄飞快地跑啊跑。他们时不时地边跑边回头看，十分担心被人跟踪。路上遇到的每个树桩，对他俩来说都好比是一个人，一个对手，吓得他们连气都不敢喘。在经过村庄附近的农舍时，受惊的狗一声狂叫更吓得他俩腿上生风。    “乘还没有累垮，要是一口气能跑到老制革厂那儿就好了！”上气不接下气的汤姆低语道，“我实在跑不了多久了。”    哈克贝利也喘得很厉害，这清楚地表明他俩现在处境相同。两个孩子眼睛直盯着希望中的目的地，一心一意拚命往那儿跑去。渐渐地他俩跑近了。后来，他们肩并肩冲进敞开的大门，精疲力尽地扑到在里边的阴暗处，感到舒坦极了。过了一会，他们平静了下来，汤姆低声说：    “哈克贝利，你想这事结果会怎么样？”    “要是鲁宾逊医生死了，我想就要用绞刑。”    “真的吗？”    “那还用说，我知道，汤姆。”    汤姆略作思忖，然后说：    “那谁去揭发呢？是我们吗？”    “你扯到哪里去了，万一事情不顺当，印第安·乔没上绞架，那该怎么办？他迟早会要我们的命，这一点肯定无疑。”    “哈克，我心里想得正是这事。”    “要揭发就让莫夫·波特那个傻瓜去干吧！他总是喝得醉醺醺的。”    汤姆没吱声，还在想着。片刻后他低声说：    “哈克，莫夫·波特不知道出事了，他怎么能告发呢？”    “他怎么不知道出事了？”    “印第安·乔动手的时候，他刚挨了一击，你想他还能看见什么？还能知道什么吗？    “真有你的，不错，是这样，汤姆。”    “另外，你再想一想，那一击说不定要了他的命！”    “不，这不可能，汤姆。他当时喝酒了，我能看得出，更何况他经常喝酒。我爸就是这样一个人，要是他喝足了，你就是搬座教堂压在他头上休想惊动他。他自己也是这么说的。所以莫夫·波特当然也不例外喽。但话说回来，要是你绝对没喝酒，那一击说不定会要了你的命，我也不太能说清楚。”    汤姆又沉思默想了一会后说：    “哈奇，你肯定不说出去吗？”    “汤姆，我们必须一字不露才行，这你也明白。要是那个鬼印第安·乔没被绞死而我们又走漏了风声，那他会像淹两只小猫一样把我俩给淹死。好了，听着，汤姆，现在我们彼此发誓——我们必须这样做——绝不走漏半点风声。”    “我同意。这再好不过了。好，请举起手发誓：我们……”    “哦，不不不，光举手发誓不行。这只能用于像小姐们发誓那样的小事情。她们前面发誓，后面就忘得一干二净，一气之下就把你给卖了。像我们今天这样的大事情，光口头发誓还不算，要写下来，喋血为盟。”    听他这么一说，汤姆佩服得五体投地。时值夜色深沉，四周漆黑，令人胆战心惊。此时、此地、此景正合这种气氛的拍。他借着月光从地上捡起一块干净的松木板，又从口袋里掏出一小截“红砚石”，然后对着月光划了起来。他向下落笔又慢又重，向上抬笔又轻又快。他一边写，一边嘴动个不停，好像在帮着用劲。最后费了九牛二虎之力，他才划成了下面几句：    　　哈克·费恩和汤姆·索亚对天盟誓：我们将恪守秘密，若有半点私心假意泄密，愿当场倒毙，尸骨无存。    对汤姆流利的书写、响亮的内容，哈克贝利心悦诚服。他立即从衣服领子上拿下一枚别针，对着自己就要放血，这时汤姆说：    “别忙！这样不行。别针是铜做的，上面可能有铜绿。”    “那是什么东西？”    “不管是什么东西，反正上面有毒。要不然，你现在就吞点下肚，有你好看的。”    于是汤姆拿出一根针，去掉了线。两个孩子各自往大拇指上戳了一下，然后挤出两滴血来。接着他们又挤了数次，汤姆马上用小指蘸血写下了自己姓名的首字母。他又教哈克写好Ｈ和F，到此为止，宣誓结束。他们念着咒语，举行了干巴巴的埋葬仪式，靠墙将松木板埋了。他们认为连同埋葬的还有那锁住他们口舌的枷锁，因此钥匙也用不着了。    这时，这幢破楼的另一头，有个人影鬼鬼祟祟地从缺口处溜进来，可是他俩却没有发觉。    “汤姆，”哈克贝利小声问道，“这样一来，我们将不会泄密，永远都不会，是吗？”    “那还用说。不管发生了什么，千变万变我们得保守秘密这条不能变，否则我们将‘当场倒毙’，这你也晓得。”    “对，我想这没错。”    他们又小声嘀咕了一阵子。没多久，外面传来了狗叫声，那声音又长又凄凉，离他们不到十英尺远。两个孩子一阵害怕，突然紧紧地抱在一起。    “它在哭嗥我们俩人中哪一个？”哈克贝利喘着气问道。    “我不知道，你从缝里往外瞅瞅。快点！”    “我不干，你自己来看，汤姆！”    “我不能——我不能去看，哈克！”    “求你了，汤姆。它又叫起来了！”    “哦，我的老天爷，谢天谢地！”汤姆小声说，“我听得出它的声音，原来是布尔·哈宾逊①。”    　　①如果哈宾逊先生有个奴仆叫布尔的话，汤姆就叫他“哈宾逊的布尔”；可是若是他的儿子或狗叫布尔，那汤姆就叫他（它）布尔·哈宾逊。 
    “哦，这下可好了，汤姆，我差点被吓死了，我以为那是只野狗呐。”    那只狗又嗥起来，孩子们的心情再次低落下来。    “哦，我的天那！那家伙决不是布尔·哈宾逊！”哈克贝利悄声说，“去瞅瞅，汤姆！”汤姆吓得直发抖，但还是走过去，贴着裂逢往外看。“哦，哈克，那果然是只野狗！”汤姆话低得几乎让人听不见。    “快点，汤姆，快点，那狗是在嗥谁？”    “哈克，它一定是嗥我们吧，谁让我俩抱在一起呢。”    “唉，汤姆，我想我俩死定了。我也知道我的下场如何，谁叫我平时干了那么多坏事呢。”    “真是一团糟，都怪我逃学旷课，又不听话。我要是肯干的话，我也会像希德那样当个表现好的孩子，可是我却不肯干。不过，这次要是饶了我的话，我敢打赌我一定在主日学校里好好干！”说着说着，汤姆开始有点抽鼻子了。“你还算坏吗？”哈克贝利已跟着抽起鼻子来。“汤姆·索亚，你和我相比，真是一个天上，一个地下。哦，我的老天爷呀，老天爷呀，我要是有一半如你就好了。”    汤姆哽咽着低声说：    “瞧，哈奇，你瞧，它现在是背对我们的。”    哈克心里高兴，看了看后说：    “不错，是背对着我们，刚才也是这样的吗？”    “是的，可我傻乎乎的，根本没往上想。哦，你瞧这太棒了。那么这回它是嗥谁的呢？”    狗不嗥了，汤姆警觉地侧耳听着。    “嘘！那是什么声音？”他小声说。    “像——像是猪发出的声音。不，汤姆，是人的打呼声。”    “对，是打呼声！哈克，你听在什么地方？”    “我断定在那头。不过，至少听起来呼声是从那头传过来的。我老爸过去有时和猪一起睡在那头，要是他打起呼来，那可不得了，简直是如雷灌耳。再说，我估计他不会再回到这个镇上了。”    两个孩子再次想去碰碰运气，看能否逃走。    “哈奇，要是我打头阵，你敢跟我一块去看看吗？”    “我不太想去。汤姆，万一那是印第安·乔呢！”    汤姆刚一动摇，可还是抵挡不住强烈的诱惑。两人决定试试看，他们达成默契：只要呼声一停，他俩就溜之大吉。于是，他俩一前一后，踮着脚尖，偷偷走过去。在离那人不到五步远的地方，汤姆啪地一声，踩断了一根树枝。那人哼哼着稍微动了一下身子，脸暴露在月光下，原来是莫夫·波特。刚才，莫夫·波特动弹时，两个孩子的心一下子提到了嗓子眼，以为这下是跑不成了，但现在恐惧过去了。他俩踮着脚，溜到了破烂的挡风木板墙外边，没走多远就道了别分了手。夜空中又传来了那又长又凄凉的狗叫声。他们转身看见那条陌生的狗在离躺着的莫夫·波特不到几英尺的地方，脸冲着他，正仰天长嗥。    “哦，我的妈呀，那狗嗥的原来是他呀！”    两个孩子不约而同地惊呼道。    “喂，我说汤姆，听他们讲，大约两个星期前，有只野狗半夜围着约翰尼·米勒家叫；同一天晚上，还飞来一只夜鹰落在栏杆上叫个不停，不过并没有谁死啊。”    “嗯，这我知道，人是没有死，但是格霍丝·米勒不正是在紧接着的星期六那天摔倒在厨房的火里，被烧得很惨吗？”    “这没错，可她毕竟还活着，并且正在康复呐。”    “那我就没什么好说的喽，你等着瞧吧！和莫夫·波特一样，她就要完了，这是那些黑鬼说的。哈克，他们对这类事情可灵着呢。”    分手的时候，他们还在想这个问题。等汤姆从窗户爬进卧室时，天已经快亮了。他轻手轻脚脱去衣服，睡下的时候，庆幸自己出去没被人发觉。但他却没发现轻轻打着呼声的希德没睡着，而且醒了已有一个小时。    汤姆醒来后发现希德已穿戴完毕走了。天已大亮，寝室里又没有人，一看便知时候不早了。汤姆感到很吃惊——为什么今天没人叫他呢？要是往日的话，他们非盯着他起来不可。想到这，他觉得情况有点不妙。不到五分钟，他就穿好衣服到了楼下，感到浑身不对劲，懒洋洋的。全家人已吃完了早饭，但仍然坐在餐桌旁，没人怪他迟到，也没人瞅他。大家默不作声，显得十分严肃，这让他的心凉了半截。他坐下来，装着愉快的样子，可是谈何容易。大伙既不笑，也不吱声。于是他也只好一声不吭，心情沉重到了极点。    早饭过后，汤姆被姨妈叫到一边，他面带喜色满以为希望就要实现：挨鞭笞。可是姨妈没有打他，而是站在他旁边痛哭起来。她边哭边责怪汤姆怎么能这样让她这把年纪的人伤心呢？然后她说了通气话，既然汤姆不再听她的，那就让他继续这样混下去，自暴自弃直至要了她这条老命为止。这一席话比一千下鞭打更管用，汤姆的心比肉体更加痛楚不安。他大哭起来，一边央求姨妈原谅他，一边一遍又一遍地保证悔过自新。这样姨妈最后饶了他，可他觉得她并没有完全饶恕他，因此心中还是半信半疑。他离去时很伤心，结果都想不起来要报复希德这件事，可是希德却多此一举：快速从后门溜掉了。汤姆满脸愁容，闷闷不乐地来到学校。他和乔·哈帕一起，因为头一天逃学的事情被鞭笞了一顿。在挨鞭笞时，他一副忧心仲仲的样子，根本不把鞭笞这类小事情放在眼里。之后，他走到位子上坐下来，两手托腮放在桌子上，一副痛苦的样子，目不转睛地盯着墙直发愣。他的肘部压在什么硬东西上，过了好一段时间，他才难过地慢慢移动了下肘部，叹息着拿起那样东西。东西包在纸里，他打开纸包，接着重重地长叹一声，原来纸包里包着他的那个铜把手！这一下犹如雪上加霜，汤姆彻底地崩溃了。
Chapter 11
CLOSE upon the hour of noon the whole village was suddenly electrified with the ghastly news. No need of the as yet undreamed-of telegraph; the tale flew from man to man, from group to group, from house to house, with little less than telegraphic speed. Of course the schoolmaster gave holiday for that afternoon; the town would have thought strangely of him if he had not.
A gory knife had been found close to the murdered man, and it had been recognized by somebody as belonging to Muff Potter -- so the story ran. And it was said that a belated citizen had come upon Potter washing himself in the "branch" about one or two o'clock in the morning, and that Potter had at once sneaked off -- suspicious circumstances, especially the washing which was not a habit with Potter. It was also said that the town had been ransacked for this "murderer" (the public are not slow in the matter of sifting evidence and arriving at a verdict), but that he could not be found. Horsemen had departed down all the roads in every direction, and the Sheriff "was confident" that he would be captured before night.
All the town was drifting toward the graveyard. Tom's heartbreak vanished and he joined the procession, not because he would not a thousand times rather go anywhere else, but because an awful, unaccountable fascination drew him on. Arrived at the dreadful place, he wormed his small body through the crowd and saw the dismal spectacle. It seemed to him an age since he was there before. Somebody pinched his arm. He turned, and his eyes met Huckleberry's. Then both looked elsewhere at once, and wondered if anybody had noticed anything in their mutual glance. But everybody was talking, and intent upon the grisly spectacle before them.
"Poor fellow!" "Poor young fellow!" "This ought to be a lesson to grave robbers!" "Muff Potter'll hang for this if they catch him!" This was the drift of remark; and the minister said, "It was a judgment; His hand is here."
Now Tom shivered from head to heel; for his eye fell upon the stolid face of Injun Joe. At this moment the crowd began to sway and struggle, and voices shouted, "It's him! it's him! he's coming himself!"
"Who? Who?" from twenty voices.
"Muff Potter!"
"Hallo, he's stopped! -- Look out, he's turning! Don't let him get away!"
People in the branches of the trees over Tom's head said he wasn't trying to get away -- he only looked doubtful and perplexed.
"Infernal impudence!" said a bystander; "wanted to come and take a quiet look at his work, I reckon -- didn't expect any company."
The crowd fell apart, now, and the Sheriff came through, ostentatiously leading Potter by the arm. The poor fellow's face was haggard, and his eyes showed the fear that was upon him. When he stood before the murdered man, he shook as with a palsy, and he put his face in his hands and burst into tears.
"I didn't do it, friends," he sobbed; "'pon my word and honor I never done it."
"Who's accused you?" shouted a voice.
This shot seemed to carry home. Potter lifted his face and looked around him with a pathetic hopelessness in his eyes. He saw Injun Joe, and exclaimed:
"Oh, Injun Joe, you promised me you'd never --"
"Is that your knife?" and it was thrust before him by the Sheriff.
Potter would have fallen if they had not caught him and eased him to the ground. Then he said:
"Something told me 't if I didn't come back and get --" He shuddered; then waved his nerveless hand with a vanquished gesture and said, "Tell 'em, Joe, tell 'em -- it ain't any use any more."
Then Huckleberry and Tom stood dumb and staring, and heard the stony-hearted liar reel off his serene statement, they expecting every moment that the clear sky would deliver God's lightnings upon his head, and wondering to see how long the stroke was delayed. And when he had finished and still stood alive and whole, their wavering impulse to break their oath and save the poor betrayed prisoner's life faded and vanished away, for plainly this miscreant had sold himself to Satan and it would be fatal to meddle with the property of such a power as that.
"Why didn't you leave? What did you want to come here for?" somebody said.
"I couldn't help it -- I couldn't help it," Potter moaned. "I wanted to run away, but I couldn't seem to come anywhere but here." And he fell to sobbing again.
Injun Joe repeated his statement, just as calmly, a few minutes afterward on the inquest, under oath; and the boys, seeing that the lightnings were still withheld, were confirmed in their belief that Joe had sold himself to the devil. He was now become, to them, the most balefully interesting object they had ever looked upon, and they could not take their fascinated eyes from his face.
They inwardly resolved to watch him nights, when opportunity should offer, in the hope of getting a glimpse of his dread master.
Injun Joe helped to raise the body of the murdered man and put it in a wagon for removal; and it was whispered through the shuddering crowd that the wound bled a little! The boys thought that this happy circumstance would turn suspicion in the right direction; but they were disappointed, for more than one villager remarked:
"It was within three feet of Muff Potter when it done it."
Tom's fearful secret and gnawing conscience disturbed his sleep for as much as a week after this; and at breakfast one morning Sid said:
"Tom, you pitch around and talk in your sleep so much that you keep me awake half the time."
Tom blanched and dropped his eyes.
"It's a bad sign," said Aunt Polly, gravely. "What you got on your mind, Tom?"
"Nothing. Nothing 't I know of." But the boy's hand shook so that he spilled his coffee.
"And you do talk such stuff," Sid said. "Last night you said, 'It's blood, it's blood, that's what it is!' You said that over and over. And you said, 'Don't torment me so -- I'll tell!' Tell what? What is it you'll tell?"
Everything was swimming before Tom. There is no telling what might have happened, now, but luckily the concern passed out of Aunt Polly's face and she came to Tom's relief without knowing it. She said:
"Sho! It's that dreadful murder. I dream about it most every night myself. Sometimes I dream it's me that done it."
Mary said she had been affected much the same way. Sid seemed satisfied. Tom got out of the presence as quick as he plausibly could, and after that he complained of toothache for a week, and tied up his jaws every night. He never knew that Sid lay nightly watching, and frequently slipped the bandage free and then leaned on his elbow listening a good while at a time, and afterward slipped the bandage back to its place again. Tom's distress of mind wore off gradually and the toothache grew irksome and was discarded. If Sid really managed to make anything out of Tom's disjointed mutterings, he kept it to himself.
It seemed to Tom that his schoolmates never would get done holding inquests on dead cats, and thus keeping his trouble present to his mind. Sid noticed that Tom never was coroner at one of these inquiries, though it had been his habit to take the lead in all new enterprises; he noticed, too, that Tom never acted as a witness -- and that was strange; and Sid did not overlook the fact that Tom even showed a marked aversion to these inquests, and always avoided them when he could. Sid marvelled, but said nothing. However, even inquests went out of vogue at last, and ceased to torture Tom's conscience.
Every day or two, during this time of sorrow, Tom watched his opportunity and went to the little grated jail-window and smuggled such small comforts through to the "murderer" as he could get hold of. The jail was a trifling little brick den that stood in a marsh at the edge of the village, and no guards were afforded for it; indeed, it was seldom occupied. These offerings greatly helped to ease Tom's conscience.
The villagers had a strong desire to tar-and-feather Injun Joe and ride him on a rail, for body-snatching, but so formidable was his character that nobody could be found who was willing to take the lead in the matter, so it was dropped. He had been careful to begin both of his inquest-statements with the fight, without confessing the grave-robbery that preceded it; therefore it was deemed wisest not to try the case in the courts at present.  
第十一章　波特有口难辩，汤姆良心受谴 
    临近中午时分，那个可怕的消息使全村人一下子惊呆了。根本用不着什么电报（当时人们连做梦都想不到这玩意），这消息一传十，十传百，以电报的速度就传开了，弄得家喻户晓，人人皆知。因此校长决定当天下午放半天假，否则非遭镇上人白眼不可。    据传闻，人们在死人的附近发现了一把带血的刀，经人辨认说它是莫夫·波特的。另外，一个晚上赶路的人，在凌晨一两点钟左右碰巧看见波特在小河里冲洗自己，见有人来，他马上溜掉。这确实令人怀疑，尤其是冲洗这件事根本不符合波特的习惯。还有，他们说镇上的人已经开始搜寻这个“杀人犯”了（在细查证据并以此定罪方面，人们从不怠慢），可是却没有找到。骑马的人沿着四面八方的路去追捕他，镇上的司法官“深信”：天黑之前就会逮到他。    全镇的人潮水般涌向坟地，汤姆突然不伤心了，也跟在后面。实际上，他很想到别的地方去，但是却被一种可怕的、不可言状的魔力吸引到这里。到了这个可怕的地方后，他矮小的身体在人群中拱来拱去挤到了前场，看见了悲凉的场面。他觉得头一天晚上到这里来过后，好像过了许多年似的。这时有人在他胳膊上拧了一下，他转过身来发现是哈克贝利。他俩目光刚一对视就立即转向别的地方，生怕旁人从中看出什么破绽来。可是大家都在谈话，一心关注的是眼前的这个惨状。    “可怜的人呀！”“不幸的年青人呀！”“这对盗墓者来说该是个教训！”“莫夫·波特要是给逮住了，一定会被绞死！”人群中时不时地传出这样的话语。牧师却说：“这是他应得的惩罚。”    这时，汤姆的目光落到了印第安·乔的脸上，发现他无动于衷。汤姆从头到尾，吓得直打冷颤。人群开始骚动起来，有人大呼：“就是他！就是他！他自己竟来了！”    “是谁？是谁？”有一二十人问道。    “是莫夫·波特！”    “啊呀，他停下了！注意，他转身了！别让他给跑了！”    “他不是要跑，只是有点迟疑和慌张。”汤姆抬起头，看见这是爬在树上的人在说话。    “该死的！”一个旁观者说，“干了坏事，还想偷偷来看热闹，真不要脸。没想到会来这么多人吧。”    人群闪开，让出了一条路。司法官揪着波特的胳膊，炫耀似地走过来。这个可怜的家伙脸色憔悴，眼中流露出恐惧的神色。到了死人面前，他像中了风，手捂着脸，突然哭起来。    “这不是我干的，乡亲们，”他抽咽着说，“我敢赌咒发誓，我从没有杀人。”    “谁控告你杀人了？”有人大声喊道。    这一喊让波特有了转机。他抬起头，绝望而可怜地向周围环视了一下。他看到印第安·乔后大声呼道：    “哦，印第安·乔，你保证过决不……”他话还没说完，司法官就将一把刀扔到他面前说：    “是你的刀吗？”    听到这话，波特要不是被人们扶着慢慢放到地上，他差点一头栽下去。    “不知怎么，我身不由己要来拿走……”他哆哆嗦嗦地说着，然后像泄了汽的球一样，无力地挥挥手说：    “告诉大伙，乔。跟他们说，反正瞒也没有用了。”    于是哈克贝利和汤姆目瞪口呆地站在那里，听着那个铁石心肠的家伙滔滔不绝对大家编了一通谎言。他俩希望老天有眼，立即当头一雷劈死这个骗子。可是恰恰相反，那个骗子却神气活现，安然无恙。他们原打算把誓言抛到一边，去救那个遭陷害的可怜人，见此情景，却更加犹豫不决了。再加上那个坏蛋一定卖身投靠了魔鬼撒旦，很显然同他们斗无异于螳臂当车，不自量力。    “你怎么不远走高飞，还到这来干什么？”有人问道。“要是能那样就好了。”波特呻吟着说，“我逃过，可不知怎么搞的，除了来这里，别无它处可去。”说完他又呜咽起来。    几分钟后，在验尸的时候，印地安·乔先是发誓，然后又不慌不忙地把那套谎话重复了一遍。天空并没有雷电大作，两个孩子更加深信：乔已确实卖身给魔鬼。这个家伙虽然是个丧门神，可是这两个孩子却觉得十分有趣好奇，迷得他俩目不转睛地盯着他。    他们暗自决定，晚上若有机会的话就盯梢他，看看能否见识一下他那魔鬼主人的真面目。印第安·乔也帮着把尸体抬上马车运走。惊魂未定的人群叽叽咕咕说那死人的伤口出了点血。两个孩子想这一可喜现象将有助于人们作出正确判断，查出真正的凶手。但他们马上又泄了气，因为不只一个村民说道：    “当时，莫夫·波特离死人不到三英尺远呢。”汤姆既不敢说出可怕的事实真相，良心又受到煎熬，因此搅得他事后一周内睡卧不安。一天，吃早饭时，希德说：    “汤姆，你翻来覆去，还说梦话，我给你搞得一夜只睡了半夜的觉。”    汤姆听后脸色煞白，垂下了眼皮。    “这可不是好兆头，”波莉姨妈阴着脸说，“汤姆。你有什么心事吗？”    “没有，我什么都不知道。”可他手在发抖，把咖啡给抖了出来。    “昨晚你的确说了，”希德说，“你说：‘是血，是血，就是血！’你反复说个不停。你还说：‘不要再这样折磨我了——我干脆说出来！’说出来什么？是什么事情呀？”    汤姆只觉得眼前一阵晕眩，后果很难预料。幸运的是，波莉姨妈注意力转移了，这下她无意中给汤姆解了围。    “嗨，没什么事，不就是那个恐怖的谋杀案吗。我经常晚上梦见那起谋杀案。有时还梦见是自己干的呢。”    玛丽说谋杀案这事，她也有同样的感觉。这下希德才不再问东问西了。汤姆的花言巧语使希德感到满意，随后他就溜之大吉。接下来的一周里，他说得了牙疼病，每天晚上睡觉都把嘴扎起来。可是希德夜里总是盯着他，时常解开他扎嘴的带子，然后侧着身子听上好一阵子，再把带子扎上。这一切，汤姆都被蒙在鼓里，渐渐地汤姆的心情平静了许多，对装牙疼也感到没劲，所以就恢复了常态。即使希德从汤姆夜里的支言片语中理出个头绪来，他自己知道就是了。    汤姆觉得，同学们玩起给猫验尸的游戏来，总是没完没了，这时常让他想起那天的验尸场面，感到非常不愉快。希德发现：汤姆以前干什么新鲜事情都喜欢打头阵，可现在验尸游戏时，他再也不扮验尸官了；还有，汤姆也不愿演证人——这确实令人不可思议。希德还清楚地记得在玩验尸游戏时，汤姆明显地表现出厌恶的样子，若有可能的话，总是尽量避免参加这样的玩法。希德感到奇怪，但未作任何流露。    汤姆一直感到很难过，过一两天，他就把能弄到手的小慰问品送到那个“杀人犯”那里，瞅个机会从小栅栏窗户给递进去。牢房很小，是个砖砌的小屋，位于村边的沼泽地上，没派看守，实际上，这里经常空着。汤姆觉得这样做，心灵上得到很大的宽慰。    全村的人强烈要求把那个盗墓贼印第安·乔给赶走，让他身上涂着柏油，插上羽毛骑在杆上被抬走。但由于这个家伙不是轻易就能对付的，所以找不到一个人愿意领这个头，事情也就这样告吹了。印第安·乔在验尸时，两次作证都只谈了打架的事情，没有承认盗墓，所以人们觉得这桩公案目前最好不要对簿公堂。
Chapter 12
ONE of the reasons why Tom's mind had drifted away from its secret troubles was, that it had found a new and weighty matter to interest itself about. Becky Thatcher had stopped coming to school. Tom had struggled with his pride a few days, and tried to "whistle her down the wind," but failed. He began to find himself hanging around her father's house, nights, and feeling very miserable. She was ill. What if she should die! There was distraction in the thought. He no longer took an interest in war, nor even in piracy. The charm of life was gone; there was nothing but dreariness left. He put his hoop away, and his bat; there was no joy in them any more. His aunt was concerned. She began to try all manner of remedies on him. She was one of those people who are infatuated with patent medicines and all new-fangled methods of producing health or mending it. She was an inveterate experimenter in these things. When something fresh in this line came out she was in a fever, right away, to try it; not on herself, for she was never ailing, but on anybody else that came handy. She was a subscriber for all the "Health" periodicals and phrenological frauds; and the solemn ignorance they were inflated with was breath to her nostrils. All the "rot" they contained about ventilation, and how to go to bed, and how to get up, and what to eat, and what to drink, and how much exercise to take, and what frame of mind to keep one's self in, and what sort of clothing to wear, was all gospel to her, and she never observed that her health-journals of the current month customarily upset everything they had recommended the month before. She was as simple-hearted and honest as the day was long, and so she was an easy victim. She gathered together her quack periodicals and her quack medicines, and thus armed with death, went about on her pale horse, metaphorically speaking, with "hell following after." But she never suspected that she was not an angel of healing and the balm of Gilead in disguise, to the suffering neighbors.
The water treatment was new, now, and Tom's low condition was a windfall to her. She had him out at daylight every morning, stood him up in the woodshed and drowned him with a deluge of cold water; then she scrubbed him down with a towel like a file, and so brought him to; then she rolled him up in a wet sheet and put him away under blankets till she sweated his soul clean and "the yellow stains of it came through his pores" -- as Tom said.
Yet notwithstanding all this, the boy grew more and more melancholy and pale and dejected. She added hot baths, sitz baths, shower baths, and plunges. The boy remained as dismal as a hearse. She began to assist the water with a slim oatmeal diet and blisterplasters. She calculated his capacity as she would a jug's, and filled him up every day with quack cure-alls.
Tom had become indifferent to persecution by this time. This phase filled the old lady's heart with consternation. This indifference must be broken up at any cost. Now she heard of Pain-killer for the first time. She ordered a lot at once. She tasted it and was filled with gratitude. It was simply fire in a liquid form. She dropped the water treatment and everything else, and pinned her faith to Pain-killer. She gave Tom a teaspoonful and watched with the deepest anxiety for the result. Her troubles were instantly at rest, her soul at peace again; for the "indifference" was broken up. The boy could not have shown a wilder, heartier interest, if she had built a fire under him.
Tom felt that it was time to wake up; this sort of life might be romantic enough, in his blighted condition, but it was getting to have too little sentiment and too much distracting variety about it. So he thought over various plans for relief, and finally hit pon that of professing to be fond of Pain-killer. He asked for it so often that he became a nuisance, and his aunt ended by telling him to help himself and quit bothering her. If it had been Sid, she would have had no misgivings to alloy her delight; but since it was Tom, she watched the bottle clandestinely. She found that the medicine did really diminish, but it did not occur to her that the boy was mending the health of a crack in the sitting-room floor with it.
One day Tom was in the act of dosing the crack when his aunt's yellow cat came along, purring, eying the teaspoon avariciously, and begging for a taste. Tom said:
"Don't ask for it unless you want it, Peter."
But Peter signified that he did want it.
"You better make sure."
Peter was sure.
"Now you've asked for it, and I'll give it to you, because there ain't anything mean about me; but if you find you don't like it, you mustn't blame anybody but your own self."
Peter was agreeable. So Tom pried his mouth open and poured down the Pain-killer. Peter sprang a couple of yards in the air, and then delivered a war-whoop and set off round and round the room, banging against furniture, upsetting flower-pots, and making general havoc. Next he rose on his hind feet and pranced around, in a frenzy of enjoyment, with his head over his shoulder and his voice proclaiming his unappeasable happiness. Then he went tearing around the house again spreading chaos and destruction in his path. Aunt Polly entered in time to see him throw a few double summersets, deliver a final mighty hurrah, and sail through the open window, carrying the rest of the flower-pots with him. The old lady stood petrified with astonishment, peering over her glasses; Tom lay on the floor expiring with laughter.
"Tom, what on earth ails that cat?"
"I don't know, aunt," gasped the boy.
"Why, I never see anything like it. What did make him act so?"
"Deed I don't know, Aunt Polly; cats always act so when they're having a good time."
"They do, do they?" There was something in the tone that made Tom apprehensive.
"Yes'm. That is, I believe they do."
"You do?"
"Yes'm."
The old lady was bending down, Tom watching, with interest emphasized by anxiety. Too late he divined her "drift." The handle of the telltale teaspoon was visible under the bed-valance. Aunt Polly took it, held it up. Tom winced, and dropped his eyes. Aunt Polly raised him by the usual handle -- his ear -- and cracked his head soundly with her thimble.
"Now, sir, what did you want to treat that poor dumb beast so, for?"
"I done it out of pity for him -- because he hadn't any aunt."
"Hadn't any aunt! -- you numskull. What has that got to do with it?"
"Heaps. Because if he'd had one she'd a burnt him out herself! She'd a roasted his bowels out of him 'thout any more feeling than if he was a human!"
Aunt Polly felt a sudden pang of remorse. This was putting the thing in a new light; what was cruelty to a cat might be cruelty to a boy, too. She began to soften; she felt sorry. Her eyes watered a little, and she put her hand on Tom's head and said gently:
"I was meaning for the best, Tom. And, Tom, it did do you good."
Tom looked up in her face with just a perceptible twinkle peeping through his gravity.
"I know you was meaning for the best, aunty, and so was I with Peter. It done him good, too. I never see him get around so since --"
"Oh, go 'long with you, Tom, before you aggravate me again. And you try and see if you can't be a good boy, for once, and you needn't take any more medicine."
Tom reached school ahead of time. It was noticed that this strange thing had been occurring every day latterly. And now, as usual of late, he hung about the gate of the schoolyard instead of playing with his comrades. He was sick, he said, and he looked it. He tried to seem to be looking everywhere but whither he really was looking -- down the road. Presently Jeff Thatcher hove in sight, and Tom's face lighted; he gazed a moment, and then turned sorrowfully away. When Jeff arrived, Tom accosted him; and "led up" warily to opportunities for remark about Becky, but the giddy lad never could see the bait. Tom watched and watched, hoping whenever a frisking frock came in sight, and hating the owner of it as soon as he saw she was not the right one. At last frocks ceased to appear, and he dropped hopelessly into the dumps; he entered the empty schoolhouse and sat down to suffer. Then one more frock passed in at the gate, and Tom's heart gave a great bound. The next instant he was out, and "going on" like an Indian; yelling, laughing, chasing boys, jumping over the fence at risk of life and limb, throwing handsprings, standing on his head -- doing all the heroic things he could conceive of, and keeping a furtive eye out, all the while, to see if Becky Thatcher was noticing. But she seemed to be unconscious of it all; she never looked. Could it be possible that she was not aware that he was there? He carried his exploits to her immediate vicinity; came war-whooping around, snatched a boy's cap, hurled it to the roof of the schoolhouse, broke through a group of boys, tumbling them in every direction, and fell sprawling, himself, under Becky's nose, almost upsetting her -- and she turned, with her nose in the air, and he heard her say: "Mf! some people think they're mighty smart -- always showing off!"
Tom's cheeks burned. He gathered himself up and sneaked off, crushed and crestfallen.  
第十二章　汤姆喂猫药，姨妈心开窍  
    汤姆转移了注意力，不再为心中的秘密所苦恼，原因之一是，他现在感兴趣的是另一件更重要的事情：贝基·撒切尔不来上学了。经过几天的内心斗争，汤姆想了结这桩心事，可是没成功，结果他发现晚上自己一个人伤心地围着她家转悠。她原来是生病了，可万一要是死了呢！想到这，他都快要发疯了。什么打仗啦，当海盗呀，他全无了兴趣。美好的生活一去不复返，留下的尽是些烦恼。他收起铁环，球拍也被放到了一边，这些东西已经没用了，不再能带来快乐。最担心他的是他姨妈。她马上试着想用各种药来治疗他。地姨妈这个人和有些人一样，对于专卖药，或强身、健体等之类的保健药品，不分青红皂白都要先试为快。只要有新的出来，她从不落下一样，一古脑拿来就试，可是她自己从不生病，所以逮着谁，就是谁。她订了所有的医学刊物和骨相学之类的东西。里面一本正经的胡说八道简直成了她的命根子。什么通风透气、怎样上床和起床、吃什么、喝什么、运动量多少为佳、保持什么样的心情，还有穿什么样的衣服等等，这一切废话都被她当作至理名言。有趣的是尽管健康杂志上的内容前后两期说得驴唇不对马嘴，忽左忽右，但她却从来没有发现过。她这人头脑简单，心地单纯，所以极容易上当受骗。于是，她带上废话连篇的刊物和骗人的药，用比喻的说法，就是带上死亡，骑上灰马，身后跟着魔鬼出发了。可她满以为带的是灵丹妙药，自己是华佗再世，这下受苦受难的邻里有救了。    时下，水疗法是个新玩意，正巧汤姆精神也不怎么样，这下可得了她的劲。早晨天一亮，她就把汤姆叫到外边，让他在木棚里站好，然后没头没脸地给他浇上一阵凉水。她还用毛巾像锉东西一样使劲给汤姆擦身，让他缓过来。接着她用湿床单包起汤姆，再盖上毯子直捂得他大汗淋漓，洗净灵魂。    用汤姆的话来说，就是“要让污泥秽水从每根毛细管中流出”。    经过这番“好心”的折腾，那孩子却更加忧郁、更加苍白、没精打采。于是乎，她又动用了热水浴、坐浴、淋浴，直至全身水浴法，但都无济于事。那孩子仍然看上去像口棺材，死气沉沉。她又特别往水里加了一点燕麦和治水泡的药膏，她还像估量罐子容量一般来合计着汤姆的用药量，每天拿些所谓的灵丹妙药给他灌上一通。    此时此刻的汤姆对这种等同“迫害”的治疗已经麻木不仁，老太太对此惊恐万状。她要不惜一切代价治好他的麻木不仁。她头一回听说止痛药这个名词，现在就派上了用场。她马上买了一些，尝后觉得这下有救了。用这种药简直等于拿火烧人。她丢下水疗法和别的，一心把希望寄托在这止痛药上。她给汤姆服了一汤匙药，然后万分焦虑地等着结果。果然见效了，汤姆不再麻木不仁了，她的心情马上平静下来，也无忧无虑了。再瞧那孩子，突然醒过来兴趣十足，就算老太太真地把他放在火上，也比不上他这阵子的劲头。    汤姆觉得他该醒了，尽管姨妈的折腾让他觉得很有浪漫情调，但却缺少理智，花样多得让人眼花缭乱。他绞尽脑汁，终于想出一个解脱的计划：假称喜欢吃止痛药。于是他时不时地找姨妈要药吃，结果弄得她烦起来，最后她干脆让汤姆自己动手爱拿多少就拿多少，不要再来烦她就行。要是换成希德，她完全可以放心，可这是汤姆，所以，她暗中注意药瓶的情况。她发现药瓶的药越来越少，但想都没想到汤姆正在客厅里用这种药在补地板的裂缝。    有一天，汤姆正在给裂缝“喂药”，这时他姨妈喂养的那只黄猫彼得咪咪地叫着走过来，眼睛贪婪地盯着汤匙，好像是要尝一口。汤姆说：    “彼得，要不是真想要，就别要了。”可是彼得表示它确实想要。    “你最好别弄错了。”    彼得拿定了主意要。    “这可是你自找的，我就给你，我可不是小气，你要是吃了觉得不对劲，别怨别人只能怪你自己。”    彼得并无异议。因此汤姆撬开它的嘴，把止痛药灌下去。彼得窜出两三码远，狂叫着在屋里转来转去。它砰的一声撞在家具上，碰翻了花瓶，弄得一塌糊涂。接着它昂起头，后腿着地，欢快地跳来跳去，按捺不住发出高兴的声音。随后，它又在屋里狂奔乱跑，所到之处，不是碰翻这个就是毁了那个。波莉姨妈进来时正好看见它在连翻斤斗。它最后哇地大叫一声，从敞开的窗户一飘而出，把余下的花瓶也带了下去。老太太惊呆了，站在那儿，眼睛从镜框上往外瞪着；而汤姆却躺在地板上笑得喘不过气来。    “汤姆，那猫到底得了什么病？”    “我不知道，姨妈。”他喘着气说。    “我还没见过这样的事情，它究竟是为什么那个样子？”    “我真的不知道，姨妈。猫快活的时候总是那个样子。”    “是那个样子的吗？”语气有点令汤姆生畏。    “是的，姨妈。我是这样想的。”    “你是这样想的？”    “是，姨妈。”    老太太弯下腰，汤姆焦虑万分地关注着。当他看出老太太的用意时，为时已晚，因为说明问题的那把汤匙已暴露在床帷下。波莉姨妈捡起汤匙，汤姆害怕了，垂下了眼皮。波莉姨妈一把揪住他的耳杂把他拽起来，还用顶针狠狠地敲他头，敲得砰砰响。    “我的小祖宗，你干吗要这样对待那个可怜的家伙，它又不会说话？”    “我是可怜它才给它吃药的。你瞧，它又没有什么姨妈。”“你说什么，它没有姨妈！傻瓜！那和这事有什么关系？”“关系多着呢。它要是有姨妈，那肯定会不考虑它的感情，给它灌药烧坏它的五脏六腑不可！”    听到这，波莉姨妈突然感到一阵难受，后悔不已。汤姆的说法让她开了窍。猫受不了，那孩子不也同样受不了吗？她软下来，心里感到内疚。她眼睛有点湿润，手放在汤姆头上，亲切地说：    “汤姆，我本是好意。再说，汤姆，我那样做确实对你有好处。”    汤姆抬起头，严肃地看着姨妈的脸，并眨着眼睛盯着她说：“我的好姨妈，你是好意，这我晓得。我对彼得也是好意呀。那药对它也有好处。自我给它灌药以后，我再也没有看见它的影子。”    “哦，去你的，汤姆。别再气我了。你就不能做个听话的孩子吗？哪怕是一次也行，这样的话，就不需要再用药了。”    汤姆早早来到学校，人们发现，奇怪的是他最近每天都是这样。和往常一样，他没跟伙伴们在一起玩耍，而是独自一人在校门口徘徊。    他说自己病了，看上去也确实像生病的样子。他装出若无其事的样子四处看着。其实，他真正关注的是那边的那条路。这时，杰夫·撒切尔跃入眼帘，汤姆喜上眉梢，他盯着看了一会，然后失望地转过身去。等杰夫走近，汤姆主动上前同他搭讪，想俟机套出有关贝基的情况，可是谈了一通却是白搭。汤姆只好等啊等啊，等得望眼欲穿。每当路那头出现了女孩子模样时，他都满心欢喜，等到近处一看，不是他要等的人，他马上恨得咬牙切齿。后来，路上踪影全无，他的希望破灭了，所以他闷闷不乐地步进空无一人的教室，坐在那里难过。这时，汤姆看见女孩的衣服从大门口飘进来，汤姆的心怦怦直跳，他马上跑出教室，像印第安人一样，开始登场表演。他叫着，笑着，你追我赶，甚至不顾摔断手脚，冒着生命危险跳过栅栏，前后翻个不停或者拿大顶。总之，凡是他能想到的逞能事情，他都做了。他一边做，一边偷眼看看贝基·撒切尔是不是看见了这一切。可是她好像一点也没看见，甚至连望一眼都没有。这可能因为她没有注意到他在那里。于是汤姆就凑近了一些，“冲啊！杀呀”地喊个不停。他跑着抓下一个男孩子的帽子就扔到教室的屋顶上，然后又冲向另一群孩子，弄得他们跌跌撞撞四散开去，自己也一下子摔在贝基面前，还差点把她绊倒。贝基转过身去，昂着头。    汤姆听见她说：    “哼！有的人自以为是，神气得很呢——尽是卖弄！”    汤姆被说得脸直发烧。他爬起来，偷偷地溜了，一副垂头丧气、被斗败的样子。
Chapter 13
TOM'S mind was made up now. He was gloomy and desperate. He was a forsaken, friendless boy, he said; nobody loved him; when they found out what they had driven him to, perhaps they would be sorry; he had tried to do right and get along, but they would not let him; since nothing would do them but to be rid of him, let it be so; and let them blame HIM for the consequences -- why shouldn't they? What right had the friendless to complain? Yes, they had forced him to it at last: he would lead a life of crime. There was no choice.
By this time he was far down Meadow Lane, and the bell for school to "take up" tinkled faintly upon his ear. He sobbed, now, to think he should never, never hear that old familiar sound any more -- it was very hard, but it was forced on him; since he was driven out into the cold world, he must submit -- but he forgave them. Then the sobs came thick and fast. Just at this point he met his soul's sworn comrade, Joe Harper -- hard-eyed, and with evidently a great and dismal purpose in his heart. Plainly here were "two souls with but a single thought." Tom, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, began to blubber out something about a resolution to escape from hard usage and lack of sympathy at home by roaming abroad into the great world never to return; and ended by hoping that Joe would not forget him.
But it transpired that this was a request which Joe had just been going to make of Tom, and had come to hunt him up for that purpose. His mother had whipped him for drinking some cream which he had never tasted and knew nothing about; it was plain that she was tired of him and wished him to go; if she felt that way, there was nothing for him to do but succumb; he hoped she would be happy, and never regret having driven her poor boy out into the unfeeling world to suffer and die.
As the two boys walked sorrowing along, they made a new compact to stand by each other and be brothers and never separate till death relieved them of their troubles. Then they began to lay their plans. Joe was for being a hermit, and living on crusts in a remote cave, and dying, some time, of cold and want and grief; but after listening to Tom, he conceded that there were some conspicuous advantages about a life of crime, and so he consented to be a pirate.
Three miles below St. Petersburg, at a point where the Mississippi River was a trifle over a mile wide, there was a long, narrow, wooded island, with a shallow bar at the head of it, and this offered well as a rendezvous. It was not inhabited; it lay far over toward the further shore, abreast a dense and almost wholly unpeopled forest. So Jackson's Island was chosen. Who were to be the subjects of their piracies was a matter that did not occur to them. Then they hunted up Huckleberry Finn, and he joined them promptly, for all careers were one to him; he was indifferent. They presently separated to meet at a lonely spot on the river-bank two miles above the village at the favorite hour -- which was midnight. There was a small log raft there which they meant to capture. Each would bring hooks and lines, and such provision as he could steal in the most dark and mysterious way -- as became outlaws. And before the afternoon was done, they had all managed to enjoy the sweet glory of spreading the fact that pretty soon the town would "hear something." All who got this vague hint were cautioned to "be mum and wait."
About midnight Tom arrived with a boiled ham and a few trifles, and stopped in a dense undergrowth on a small bluff overlooking the meeting-place. It was starlight, and very still. The mighty river lay like an ocean at rest. Tom listened a moment, but no sound disturbed the quiet. Then he gave a low, distinct whistle. It was answered from under the bluff. Tom whistled twice more; these signals were answered in the same way. Then a guarded voice said:
"Who goes there?"
"Tom Sawyer, the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main. Name your names."
"Huck Finn the Red-Handed, and Joe Harper the Terror of the Seas." Tom had furnished these titles, from his favorite literature.
"'Tis well. Give the countersign."
Two hoarse whispers delivered the same awful word simultaneously to the brooding night:
"BLOOD!"
Then Tom tumbled his ham over the bluff and let himself down after it, tearing both skin and clothes to some extent in the effort. There was an easy, comfortable path along the shore under the bluff, but it lacked the advantages of difficulty and danger so valued by a pirate.
The Terror of the Seas had brought a side of bacon, and had about worn himself out with getting it there. Finn the Red-Handed had stolen a skillet and a quantity of half-cured leaf tobacco, and had also brought a few corn-cobs to make pipes with. But none of the pirates smoked or "chewed" but himself. The Black Avenger of the Spanish Main said it would never do to start without some fire. That was a wise thought; matches were hardly known there in that day. They saw a fire smouldering upon a great raft a hundred yards above, and they went stealthily thither and helped themselves to a chunk. They made an imposing adventure of it, saying, "Hist!" every now and then, and suddenly halting with finger on lip; moving with hands on imaginary dagger-hilts; and giving orders in dismal whispers that if "the foe" stirred, to "let him have it to the hilt," because "dead men tell no tales." They knew well enough that the raftsmen were all down at the village laying in stores or having a spree, but still that was no excuse for their conducting this thing in an unpiratical way.
They shoved off, presently, Tom in command, Huck at the after oar and Joe at the forward. Tom stood amidships, gloomy-browed, and with folded arms, and gave his orders in a low, stern whisper:
"Luff, and bring her to the wind!"
"Aye-aye, sir!"
"Steady, steady-y-y-y!"
"Steady it is, sir!"
"Let her go off a point!"
"Point it is, sir!"
As the boys steadily and monotonously drove the raft toward mid-stream it was no doubt understood that these orders were given only for "style," and were not intended to mean anything in particular.
"What sail's she carrying?"
"Courses, tops'ls, and flying-jib, sir."
"Send the r'yals up! Lay out aloft, there, half a dozen of ye -- foretopmaststuns'l! Lively, now!"
"Aye-aye, sir!"
"Shake out that maintogalans'l! Sheets and braces! NOW my hearties!"
"Aye-aye, sir!"
"Hellum-a-lee -- hard a port! Stand by to meet her when she comes! Port, port! Now, men! With a will! Stead-y-y-y!"
"Steady it is, sir!"
The raft drew beyond the middle of the river; the boys pointed her head right, and then lay on their oars. The river was not high, so there was not more than a two or three mile current. Hardly a word was said during the next three-quarters of an hour. Now the raft was passing before the distant town. Two or three glimmering lights showed where it lay, peacefully sleeping, beyond the vague vast sweep of star-gemmed water, unconscious of the tremendous event that was happening. The Black Avenger stood still with folded arms, "looking his last" upon the scene of his former joys and his later sufferings, and wishing "she" could see him now, abroad on the wild sea, facing peril and death with dauntless heart, going to his doom with a grim smile on his lips. It was but a small strain on his imagination to remove Jackson's Island beyond eye-shot of the village, and so he "looked his last" with a broken and satisfied heart. The other pirates were looking their last, too; and they all looked so long that they came near letting the current drift them out of the range of the island. But they discovered the danger in time, and made shift to avert it. About two o'clock in the morning the raft grounded on the bar two hundred yards above the head of the island, and they waded back and forth until they had landed their freight. Part of the little raft's belongings consisted of an old sail, and this they spread over a nook in the bushes for a tent to shelter their provisions; but they themselves would sleep in the open air in good weather, as became outlaws.
They built a fire against the side of a great log twenty or thirty steps within the sombre depths of the forest, and then cooked some bacon in the frying-pan for supper, and used up half of the corn "pone" stock they had brought. It seemed glorious sport to be feasting in that wild, free way in the virgin forest of an unexplored and uninhabited island, far from the haunts of men, and they said they never would return to civilization. The climbing fire lit up their faces and threw its ruddy glare upon the pillared tree-trunks of their forest temple, and upon the varnished foliage and festooning vines.
When the last crisp slice of bacon was gone, and the last allowance of corn pone devoured, the boys stretched themselves out on the grass, filled with contentment. They could have found a cooler place, but they would not deny themselves such a romantic feature as the roasting camp-fire.
"Ain't it gay?" said Joe.
"It's nuts!" said Tom. "What would the boys say if they could see us?"
"Say? Well, they'd just die to be here -- hey, Hucky!"
"I reckon so," said Huckleberry; "anyways, I'm suited. I don't want nothing better'n this. I don't ever get enough to eat, gen'ally -- and here they can't come and pick at a feller and bullyrag him so."
"It's just the life for me," said Tom. "You don't have to get up, mornings, and you don't have to go to school, and wash, and all that blame foolishness. You see a pirate don't have to do anything, Joe, when he's ashore, but a hermit he has to be praying considerable, and then he don't have any fun, anyway, all by himself that way."
"Oh yes, that's so," said Joe, "but I hadn't thought much about it, you know. I'd a good deal rather be a pirate, now that I've tried it."
"You see," said Tom, "people don't go much on hermits, nowadays, like they used to in old times, but a pirate's always respected. And a hermit's got to sleep on the hardest place he can find, and put sackcloth and ashes on his head, and stand out in the rain, and --"
"What does he put sackcloth and ashes on his head for?" inquired Huck.
"I dono. But they've GOT to do it. Hermits always do. You'd have to do that if you was a hermit."
"Dern'd if I would," said Huck.
"Well, what would you do?"
"I dono. But I wouldn't do that."
"Why, Huck, you'd have to. How'd you get around it?"
"Why, I just wouldn't stand it. I'd run away."
"Run away! Well, you would be a nice old slouch of a hermit. You'd be a disgrace."
The Red-Handed made no response, being better employed. He had finished gouging out a cob, and now he fitted a weed stem to it, loaded it with tobacco, and was pressing a coal to the charge and blowing a cloud of fragrant smoke -- he was in the full bloom of luxurious contentment. The other pirates envied him this majestic vice, and secretly resolved to acquire it shortly. Presently Huck said:
"What does pirates have to do?"
Tom said:
"Oh, they have just a bully time -- take ships and burn them, and get the money and bury it in awful places in their island where there's ghosts and things to watch it, and kill everybody in the ships -- make 'em walk a plank."
"And they carry the women to the island," said Joe; "they don't kill the women."
"No," assented Tom, "they don't kill the women -- they're too noble. And the women's always beautiful, too.
"And don't they wear the bulliest clothes! Oh no! All gold and silver and di'monds," said Joe, with enthusiasm.
"Who?" said Huck.
"Why, the pirates."
Huck scanned his own clothing forlornly.
"I reckon I ain't dressed fitten for a pirate," said he, with a regretful pathos in his voice; "but I ain't got none but these."
But the other boys told him the fine clothes would come fast enough, after they should have begun their adventures. They made him understand that his poor rags would do to begin with, though it was customary for wealthy pirates to start with a proper wardrobe.
Gradually their talk died out and drowsiness began to steal upon the eyelids of the little waifs. The pipe dropped from the fingers of the Red-Handed, and he slept the sleep of the conscience-free and the weary. The Terror of the Seas and the Black Avenger of the Spanish Main had more difficulty in getting to sleep. They said their prayers inwardly, and lying down, since there was nobody there with authority to make them kneel and recite aloud; in truth, they had a mind not to say them at all, but they were afraid to proceed to such lengths as that, lest they might call down a sudden and special thunderbolt from heaven. Then at once they reached and hovered upon the imminent verge of sleep -- but an intruder came, now, that would not "down." It was conscience. They began to feel a vague fear that they had been doing wrong to run away; and next they thought of the stolen meat, and then the real torture came. They tried to argue it away by reminding conscience that they had purloined sweetmeats and apples scores of times; but conscience was not to be appeased by such thin plausibilities; it seemed to them, in the end, that there was no getting around the stubborn fact that taking sweetmeats was only "hooking," while taking bacon and hams and such valuables was plain simple stealing -- and there was a command against that in the Bible. So they inwardly resolved that so long as they remained in the business, their piracies should not again be sullied with the crime of stealing. Then conscience granted a truce, and these curiously inconsistent pirates fell peacefully to sleep.   第十三章　“海盗”扬帆，准备远航 
    汤姆现在横下了一条心。他又忧郁又绝望。他说自个儿成了无亲无友、被人抛弃的孩子，没谁爱他。也许，等那些人发觉把地逼到这般田地时，他们会内疚的。他一直努力着以便不出差错，好好向上，但人们偏偏又不让他那样；既然他们一心要避开他，那就悉听尊便吧；就让他们为了将要发生的事来责怪他好了——他们就这德性，随他们去！话再说回来了，像他这样一个无亲无故的人哪有资格责怪人家呢？是的，是他们逼他铤而走险的：他要过犯罪的营生，别无选择。    此刻他已快走到草坪巷的尽头，学校的上课铃声隐隐在耳边震响。一想到自己将永远、永远也听不到这熟悉的声音，他禁不住啜泣起来——残酷的事实怎能不令人难受呢，可这是人家逼的呀。既然他们存心要把他投进冰窟，他只有认命的份——但他原谅了他们。想到这里，他哭得更伤心了。    恰在此时，他遇到了他的铁哥们儿乔·哈帕——他两眼发直，显然心怀鬼胎。不消说，他俩正是“一条道儿上”的朋友。汤姆用袖子擦了擦眼睛，边哭边说自己决意要离开这非人生活的鬼学校和没有同情心的家人，浪迹天涯，一去不回。最后他说希望乔别忘了他。    可巧，乔原来也正是特地赶来向汤姆告别，向他提出这样的请求的。他妈妈因为他偷喝奶酪揍了他一顿，其实他压根儿没喝，尝都没尝过，根本不知道那回事。明摆着的，她讨厌他了，巴望他走开。既然她这么想，他除了顺从，还能怎么样呢？但愿她能开开心，永远不会后悔是自己把可怜的儿子赶出家门，让他置身冷酷的世界，去受罪，去死。    两个孩子一边伤心地赶路，一边订立了一个新盟约，发誓互帮互助，情同手足，永不离分，除非死神硬要来拆散他们，让他们获得彻底的解脱。接着，他们就开始拟订行动计划。乔提议去当隐士，远离人群，穴居野外，靠干面包维生，等着终于有那么一天被冻死、饿死、伤心而死。不过，听罢汤姆一席话后，他也认为干犯罪的勾当并不赖，于是欣然同意去当海盗。    在圣彼得堡镇下游三英里的地方，密西西比河宽约一英里多，那儿有个狭长的、林木丛生的小岛。岛前有块很浅的沙滩，这地方是块秘密碰头的风水宝地。岛上荒无人烟，离对岸很近，紧挨着河岸还有片茂林，人迹罕至。于是他们相中了这个杰克逊岛。至于当海盗后，该打劫谁，他们倒一点也没动脑子。接着，他们找到了哈克贝利·费恩，他马上就入了伙，因为对他来说，随遇而安惯了，他反正是无所谓。不久，他们便分了手，约好在他们最喜欢的时刻——半夜，在镇子上游两英里远的河岸上一个僻静处碰头。那儿有只小木筏，他们打算据为己有。每个人都要带上钓鱼的钩子和线，以及各自用秘密招术——也就是照强盗们那样子偷来物什，并以此来装备自己。天刚擦黑，他们就已经在镇子里扬出话来，说人们很快就将“听到重大新闻”，如此这般以后，他们自是得意不已。凡是得到这种暗示的人，都被——关照“别吭声，等着瞧”。    夜半光景，汤姆带着一只熟火腿和几件小东西赶来了。他站在一个小悬崖上的一片又密又矮的树林里。从悬崖往下望就能瞧见他们约好的碰头处。这是个星光灿烂的夜晚，四周一片寂静。宽阔的河流海洋般静卧着。汤姆侧耳听了会儿，没有什么声音来搅扰这一片宁静。于是他就吹了声口哨，声音虽然低，可却清晰可辨。悬崖下立即有人回应。汤姆又吹了两声，也得到了同样的回应。然后他听到一个警惕的声音问：    “来者何人？”    “我乃西班牙海黑衣侠盗，汤姆·索亚。尔等何人？”    “赤手大盗哈克·费恩，海上死神乔·哈帕。”    这两个头衔是汤姆从他最爱看的书里，挑出来封给他俩的。    “好，口令？”    两个沙哑的声音，在一片岑寂中，几乎同时，低低地喊出一个可怖的字：    “血！”    于是汤姆就把他那只火腿，从崖上扔下去，自己也跟着滑下来，这一滑他的衣服和皮肉都挂了彩。其实有一条坦直的小道直通崖下，但走那条太平坦、没有危险的路反倒让海盗觉得没有刺激。    海上死神带来了一大块咸猪肉，这几乎累得他精疲力尽。赤手大盗费恩偷来了一只长柄平底煎锅，外带些烤得半干的烟叶，几个玉米棒子，准备用来做烟斗。不过除了他自己以外，这几个海盗没谁抽烟，也不嚼烟叶。西班牙海黑衣侠盗说，无火不成事。这真是灵机一动，而当时在那一带，人们几乎还不知道有火柴。他们看见一百码远的上游处一只大木筏上有堆冒烟的火，就溜过去取了火种来。他们故意装出一脸惊险，不时地说一声：“嘘！”忽然手指压着嘴唇停下来。他们手握想象中的刀柄前进，阴沉着脸低声发布命令，说只要“敌人”胆敢动一动，就“杀无赦”一扫干净，这样“死人是不会说三道四的”。他们明知撑筏人到镇上商店采购物品或是喝酒找乐去了，但仍然按偷盗的惯例来盗船。    他们很快就撑舟弃岸，由汤姆任指挥，哈克划右桨，乔划前桨。汤姆站在船中间，眉峰紧锁，抱臂当胸，低沉而又威严地发着口令：    “转舵向风行驶！”    “是——是，船长！”    “把定，照直走！”    “是，照直走，船长！”    “向外转一点？”    “完毕，船长！”    几个孩子稳稳当当、始终如一地将木筏向中流划过去。这些口令不过是为了摆摆派头而已，并不表示特别的意思，仅此而已。    “现在升的是什么帆？”    “大横帆、中桅帆、三角帆，船长。”    “把上桅帆拉起来！升到桅杆顶上，喂，你们六个一齐动手——拉起前中桅的副帆！使点劲，喂！”    “是——是，船长！”    “拉起第二接桅帆！拉起脚索，转帆索！喂，伙计们！”    “是——是，船长！”    “要起大风了——左转舵！风一来就顺风开！左转，左转！    伙计们，加把油！照直——走！”    “是，照直走，船长！”    木筏驶过了中流，孩子们转正船头，紧接着奋力划桨。水流不急，流速不过二三英里，之后的三刻钟里，几乎没谁吭一声。现在木筏正划过那隐约可见的镇子。两三处灯火闪烁，显示着镇子的方位，它在星光点点，波光粼粼的河对岸，平静而安详地躺着，竟没有察觉眼皮底下发生着怎样惊人的一桩大事。黑衣侠盗交叉着双臂，站在木筏上一动不动。他在“最后再看一眼”，那给了他欢乐又带来苦闷的地方，并希望“她”此刻能看见他在白浪滔天的大海上，直面险恶和死亡，毫无惧色，一脸冷笑，从容赴死。他稍稍动用了一点想象力，就把杰克逊岛移到了一眼望不到的地方，因此他“最后再看一眼”那个镇子时，虽然有些伤感，却也不乏慰藉。另外两个海盗也在和故乡惜别，他们望了许久，以致差点儿让急流把木筏冲过那个岛去，好在他们及时发现了这一险情并设法阻止了它。凌晨两点钟光景，木筏在岛子前面二百码的沙滩上搁浅了。于是他们就在水里趟来趟去，把带来的东西都搬到岸上。筏上原有的物件中有块旧帆，他们用它在矮树丛里隐蔽处搭了个帐篷。他们把东西放在帐篷里，自己却效仿海盗的做法，天气晴爽时，就睡在外面。    在距离树林深处二三十步远的地方，他们紧挨着一根倒伏于地的大树干生起火，架起平底煎锅烧熟了些咸肉当晚餐，还把带来的玉米面包吃掉了一半。远离人群，索居荒岛，在这么一片原始森林里自由自在地野餐，似乎妙趣无穷，他们说不打算回文明世界了。烈焰腾腾，辉耀着他们的脸庞，也照亮了他们用树干撑起的那座林中圣殿，还把流光镀到那些光滑得似油漆过一般的树叶上和那些缀着花朵的青藤上。    几个孩子吃完最后一块松脆的咸肉和一些玉米面包以后，就心满意足地倒在草地上。他们本来还可以找个更清凉的地方，但如此热烘烘的篝火，如此浪漫的情调，他们实在难以割舍。    “这不是蛮快活的吗？”乔说。    “赛过活神仙！”汤姆说，“要是那帮小子能瞧见咱们，他们会怎么说？”    “怎么说？哈，他们会神往得要命——喂，你说对不对，哈克！”    “我猜是这样，”哈克贝利说，“不管怎样讲，我挺喜欢这儿。就这么生活，我觉得再好也不过了。平常我连顿饱饭也没吃过——而且这儿也没谁来欺负你。”    “我也喜欢这种生活，”汤姆说，“你不必一大早就起床，也不必上学，也不必洗脸，他妈的那些烦心事儿都不必干了。乔，你要知道，海盗在岸上时，是什么事都不必干的，可是当个隐士呢，他就老是得做祷告、祷告，这样他就没有一丁点儿开心事，始终是孤鬼一个。”    “嗯，是呀，是这么回事，”乔说，“不过你知道，我当初没怎么想这事。现在试过以后，我情愿当海盗。”    “你要知道，”汤姆说，“现在隐士们不大吃香了，不像古时候那样子，可海盗一直就没谁敢小瞧过。而且做个隐士，就得找最硬的地方睡觉，头上缠粗麻布、抹着灰，还得站在外面淋雨，还有——”    哈克问：“他们头上缠粗麻布、抹着灰干嘛？”    “我不清楚。不过他们非这么做不可。隐士就得这样。你要是隐士，你也得这么做。”    “我才不干呢，”哈克说。    “那你怎么干？”    “我不知道，反正我不干。”    “哼，哈克，你必须这么做，逃是逃不掉的。”    “嗐，我就是不去受那个罪，我会一走了之。”    “一走了之！哼，说得真好，那你就成了一个道道地地的懒汉隐士，太丢人现眼了。”    赤手大盗正忙着别的事，没有答话。他刚挖空一只玉米棒子，现在正忙着把一根芦杆装上去作烟斗筒子，又装上烟叶，用一大块火红的炭把烟叶点着，然后吸了一口，喷出一道香喷喷的烟来——此刻他心旷神怡，惬意极了。旁边的两个海盗看着他这副十分气派的痞相，非常羡慕，暗下决心，尽快学会这一招。哈克说：    “海盗一般要干些什么？”    汤姆说：“嘿，他们过的可是神仙日子——把人家的船抢到手再烧掉，抢了钱就埋到他那些阴森森的地方，那地方神出鬼没。他们还把船上的人通通杀光——蒙上他们的眼睛，让他们掉到海里去。”    “他们还把女人带回岛上，”乔说，“他们不杀女人。”“对，”汤姆表示赞同地说，“他们不杀女人——真伟大！    那些女人也常常是些漂亮的妇女。”    “他们穿的衣服也总是很讲究的！哦，还不止这些！，他们穿金戴银，”乔兴致勃勃地说。    “谁呀？”哈克问。    “嗐，那些海盗呗。”    哈克可怜兮兮地瞟了一眼自己的衣服。    “我看凭我这身打扮不配当海盗，”他说，懊丧之情溢于言表。“可我除了这一身再没有衣服了。”    不过另外两个伙伴安慰他说，只要他们行动起来，好衣服很快就会到手。他们对他讲，虽然按一般惯例，手面阔的海盗一开始就讲究，但他开始时穿着虽破，这也是允许的。    他们的谈话渐渐平息了，小流浪汉们困了，上下眼皮打起了架。赤手大盗的烟斗从手中滑到地上，他无忧无虑、精疲力尽地睡着了。海上死神和西班牙黑衣侠盗却久久不能成眠。既然那儿没有人强行让他们跪下大声地做祷告，他们就躺在地上，只在心里默默祈祷。其实他们内心根本不想祷什么告，可他们又怕不这样会惹上帝发怒，降下晴空霹雳。很快他们也迷迷糊糊起来，——可偏偏又有什么东西在“捣鬼”，不让他们睡去。那是良心那个家伙。他们害怕起来，隐隐约约觉得从家里逃出来是个错误。一想到偷肉的事情，他们更加难受。他们试图安抚自己的良心，说以往他们也多次偷过糖果和苹果，可是良心并不买这个帐。最后，他们似乎觉得有一个事实是不容回避的，那就是偷糖果之类不过是“顺阳手牵羊”，而偷咸肉和火腿等贵重东西就正儿巴经是偷窃了——《圣经》曾就此明文禁止过。所以他们暗下决心，只要还在当海盗，就不能让偷窃的罪行玷污他们海盗的英名。后来良心同意跟他们和解了，这两个令人费解而又矛盾重重的海盗才心安理得地睡着了。
Chapter 14
WHEN Tom awoke in the morning, he wondered where he was. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked around. Then he comprehended. It was the cool gray dawn, and there was a delicious sense of repose and peace in the deep pervading calm and silence of the woods. Not a leaf stirred; not a sound obtruded upon great Nature's meditation. Beaded dewdrops stood upon the leaves and grasses. A white layer of ashes covered the fire, and a thin blue breath of smoke rose straight into the air. Joe and Huck still slept.
Now, far away in the woods a bird called; another answered; presently the hammering of a woodpecker was heard. Gradually the cool dim gray of the morning whitened, and as gradually sounds multiplied and life manifested itself. The marvel of Nature shaking off sleep and going to work unfolded itself to the musing boy. A little green worm came crawling over a dewy leaf, lifting two-thirds of his body into the air from time to time and "sniffing around," then proceeding again -- for he was measuring, Tom said; and when the worm approached him, of its own accord, he sat as still as a stone, with his hopes rising and falling, by turns, as the creature still came toward him or seemed inclined to go elsewhere; and when at last it considered a painful moment with its curved body in the air and then came decisively down upon Tom's leg and began a journey over him, his whole heart was glad -- for that meant that he was going to have a new suit of clothes -- without the shadow of a doubt a gaudy piratical uniform. Now a procession of ants appeared, from nowhere in particular, and went about their labors; one struggled manfully by with a dead spider five times as big as itself in its arms, and lugged it straight up a tree-trunk. A brown spotted lady-bug climbed the dizzy height of a grass blade, and Tom bent down close to it and said:
"Lady-bug, lady-bug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children's alone," 
and she took wing and went off to see about it -- which did not surprise the boy, for he knew of old that this insect was credulous about conflagrations, and he had practised upon its simplicity more than once. A tumblebug came next, heaving sturdily at its ball, and Tom touched the creature, to see it shut its legs against its body and pretend to be dead. The birds were fairly rioting by this time. A catbird, the Northern mocker, lit in a tree over Tom's head, and trilled out her imitations of her neighbors in a rapture of enjoyment; then a shrill jay swept down, a flash of blue flame, and stopped on a twig almost within the boy's reach, cocked his head to one side and eyed the strangers with a consuming curiosity; a gray squirrel and a big fellow of the "fox" kind came skurrying along, sitting up at intervals to inspect and chatter at the boys, for the wild things had probably never seen a human being before and scarcely knew whether to be afraid or not. All Nature was wide awake and stirring, now; long lances of sunlight pierced down through the dense foliage far and near, and a few butterflies came fluttering upon the scene.
Tom stirred up the other pirates and they all clattered away with a shout, and in a minute or two were stripped and chasing after and tumbling over each other in the shallow limpid water of the white sandbar. They felt no longing for the little village sleeping in the distance beyond the majestic waste of water. A vagrant current or a slight rise in the river had carried off their raft, but this only gratified them, since its going was something like burning the bridge between them and civilization.
They came back to camp wonderfully refreshed, glad-hearted, and ravenous; and they soon had the camp-fire blazing up again. Huck found a spring of clear cold water close by, and the boys made cups of broad oak or hickory leaves, and felt that water, sweetened with such a wildwood charm as that, would be a good enough substitute for coffee. While Joe was slicing bacon for breakfast, Tom and Huck asked him to hold on a minute; they stepped to a promising nook in the river-bank and threw in their lines; almost immediately they had reward. Joe had not had time to get impatient before they were back again with some handsome bass, a couple of sun-perch and a small catfish -- provisions enough for quite a family. They fried the fish with the bacon, and were astonished; for no fish had ever seemed so delicious before. They did not know that the quicker a fresh-water fish is on the fire after he is caught the better he is; and they reflected little upon what a sauce open-air sleeping, open-air exercise, bathing, and a large ingredient of hunger make, too.
They lay around in the shade, after breakfast, while Huck had a smoke, and then went off through the woods on an exploring expedition. They tramped gayly along, over decaying logs, through tangled underbrush, among solemn monarchs of the forest, hung from their crowns to the ground with a drooping regalia of grape-vines. Now and then they came upon snug nooks carpeted with grass and jeweled with flowers.
They found plenty of things to be delighted with, but nothing to be astonished at. They discovered that the island was about three miles long and a quarter of a mile wide, and that the shore it lay closest to was only separated from it by a narrow channel hardly two hundred yards wide. They took a swim about every hour, so it was close upon the middle of the afternoon when they got back to camp. They were too hungry to stop to fish, but they fared sumptuously upon cold ham, and then threw themselves down in the shade to talk. But the talk soon began to drag, and then died. The stillness, the solemnity that brooded in the woods, and the sense of loneliness, began to tell upon the spirits of the boys. They fell to thinking. A sort of undefined longing crept upon them. This took dim shape, presently -- it was budding homesickness. Even Finn the Red-Handed was dreaming of his doorsteps and empty hogsheads. But they were all ashamed of their weakness, and none was brave enough to speak his thought.
For some time, now, the boys had been dully conscious of a peculiar sound in the distance, just as one sometimes is of the ticking of a clock which he takes no distinct note of. But now this mysterious sound became more pronounced, and forced a recognition. The boys started, glanced at each other, and then each assumed a listening attitude. There was a long silence, profound and unbroken; then a deep, sullen boom came floating down out of the distance.
"What is it!" exclaimed Joe, under his breath.
"I wonder," said Tom in a whisper.
"'Tain't thunder," said Huckleberry, in an awed tone, "becuz thunder --"
"Hark!" said Tom. "Listen -- don't talk."
They waited a time that seemed an age, and then the same muffled boom troubled the solemn hush.
"Let's go and see."
They sprang to their feet and hurried to the shore toward the town. They parted the bushes on the bank and peered out over the water. The little steam ferryboat was about a mile below the village, drifting with the current. Her broad deck seemed crowded with people. There were a great many skiffs rowing about or floating with the stream in the neighborhood of the ferryboat, but the boys could not determine what the men in them were doing. Presently a great jet of white smoke burst from the ferryboat's side, and as it expanded and rose in a lazy cloud, that same dull throb of sound was borne to the listeners again.
"I know now!" exclaimed Tom; "somebody's drownded!"
"That's it!" said Huck; "they done that last summer, when Bill Turner got drownded; they shoot a cannon over the water, and that makes him come up to the top. Yes, and they take loaves of bread and put quicksilver in 'em and set 'em afloat, and wherever there's anybody that's drownded, they'll float right there and stop."
"Yes, I've heard about that," said Joe. "I wonder what makes the bread do that."
"Oh, it ain't the bread, so much," said Tom; "I reckon it's mostly what they SAY over it before they start it out."
"But they don't say anything over it," said Huck. "I've seen 'em and they don't."
"Well, that's funny," said Tom. "But maybe they say it to themselves. Of course they do. Anybody might know that."
The other boys agreed that there was reason in what Tom said, because an ignorant lump of bread, uninstructed by an incantation, could not be expected to act very intelligently when set upon an errand of such gravity.
"By jings, I wish I was over there, now," said Joe.
"I do too" said Huck "I'd give heaps to know who it is."
The boys still listened and watched. Presently a revealing thought flashed through Tom's mind, and he exclaimed:
"Boys, I know who's drownded -- it's us!"
They felt like heroes in an instant. Here was a gorgeous triumph; they were missed; they were mourned; hearts were breaking on their account; tears were being shed; accusing memories of unkindness to these poor lost lads were rising up, and unavailing regrets and remorse were being indulged; and best of all, the departed were the talk of the whole town, and the envy of all the boys, as far as this dazzling notoriety was concerned. This was fine. It was worth while to be a pirate, after all.
As twilight drew on, the ferryboat went back to her accustomed business and the skiffs disappeared. The pirates returned to camp. They were jubilant with vanity over their new grandeur and the illustrious trouble they were making. They caught fish, cooked supper and ate it, and then fell to guessing at what the village was thinking and saying about them; and the pictures they drew of the public distress on their account were gratifying to look upon -- from their point of view. But when the shadows of night closed them in, they gradually ceased to talk, and sat gazing into the fire, with their minds evidently wandering elsewhere. The excitement was gone, now, and Tom and Joe could not keep back thoughts of certain persons at home who were not enjoying this fine frolic as much as they were. Misgivings came; they grew troubled and unhappy; a sigh or two escaped, unawares. By and by Joe timidly ventured upon a roundabout "feeler" as to how the others might look upon a return to civilization -- not right now, but --
Tom withered him with derision! Huck, being uncommitted as yet, joined in with Tom, and the waverer quickly "explained," and was glad to get out of the scrape with as little taint of chicken-hearted homesickness clinging to his garments as he could. Mutiny was effectually laid to rest for the moment.
As the night deepened, Huck began to nod, and presently to snore. Joe followed next. Tom lay upon his elbow motionless, for some time, watching the two intently. At last he got up cautiously, on his knees, and went searching among the grass and the flickering reflections flung by the camp-fire. He picked up and inspected several large semi-cylinders of the thin white bark of a sycamore, and finally chose two which seemed to suit him. Then he knelt by the fire and painfully wrote something upon each of these with his "red keel"; one he rolled up and put in his jacket pocket, and the other he put in Joe's hat and removed it to a little distance from the owner. And he also put into the hat certain schoolboy treasures of almost inestimable value -- among them a lump of chalk, an India-rubber ball, three fishhooks, and one of that kind of marbles known as a "sure 'nough crystal." Then he tiptoed his way cautiously among the trees till he felt that he was out of hearing, and straightway broke into a keen run in the direction of the sandbar.  
第十四章　“海盗们”野外乐逍遥
    早晨，汤姆一觉醒来，迷迷糊糊不知身在何方。他坐起来，揉揉眼，向周围看了看。很快他想了起来。此时正值凉爽的、灰蒙蒙的黎明时分，林子里一片静谧，给一种甜蜜的安息与和平的气氛围扰着。树叶儿一动也不动，没有任何声音打扰大自然的酣眠。露珠儿还逗留在树叶和草叶上。一层白色的灰烬盖在那堆火上，一缕淡淡的烟直飘向天空。而乔和哈克都还睡得正香。    这时，林子深处有只鸟儿叫了起来，另一只发出应和。随后又听见一只啄木鸟啄树的声音。清淡的晨光渐渐发白，各种声音也随之稠密起来，大地万物，一派生机。大自然从沉睡中醒来，精神抖擞地把一片奇景展现在这惊奇的孩子的眼底。一条小青虫从一片带露的叶子上爬过来，不时地把大半截身子翘在空中，四处“嗅一嗅”，接着又向前爬——汤姆说它是打探。这条小虫自动爬近他身边时，他像一块石头一样凝然不动，满心希望它能爬得再近些。那条小虫一会儿继续向他爬过来，一会儿又好像改变了主意，打算往别处去。他的希望也随之一会儿高涨，一会儿低落。后来，小虫在空中翘起身子，考虑良久，终于爬到汤姆腿上来，在他身上周游，于是他心里充满了欢乐——因为这就表示他将要得到一套新打扮——毫无疑问，是一套光彩夺目的海盗制服。这时，不知道从什么地方来了一大群蚂蚁，正忙着搬运东西；其中一只正用两条前肢抓住一只有自己身体五倍大的死蜘蛛，奋力往前拖，直拖着它爬上了树干。一只背上有棕色斑点的花大姐趴在一片草叶的叶尖，汤姆俯下身子，对它说：“花大姐，花大姐，快回家，你的家里着火啦，你的娃娃找妈妈。”于是它就拍着翅儿飞走了，回家去看到底怎么了——汤姆对此一点也不感到奇怪，因为他早就知道这种小虫子容易相信火灾的事情，头脑又简单，被捉弄过不止一次了。不久，又有一只金龟子飞过来，不屈不挠地在搬一个粪球；汤姆碰了一下这小东西，看它把腿缩进身体装死。这时很多鸟儿叽叽喳喳闹得更欢了。有一只猫鹊——一种北方的学舌鸟——在汤姆头顶上的一棵大树上落下来，模仿着它附近别的鸟儿的叫声，叫得欢天喜地。随后又有一只樫鸟尖叫着疾飞而下，像一团一闪而过的蓝色火焰，落到一根小树枝上，汤姆几乎一伸手就能够到它。它歪着脑袋，十分好奇地打量着这几位不速之客；还有一只灰色的松鼠和一只狐狸类的大东西匆匆跑来，一会儿坐着观察这几个孩子，一会儿又冲他们叫几声。这些野生动物也许以前从未见过人类，所以它们根本不知道该不该害怕。此时自然界的万物全都醒来，充满了活力。这儿那儿，一道道阳光如长矛一般从茂密的树叶中直刺下来，几只蝴蝶扇着翅膀，在翩翩起舞。    汤姆弄醒了另外两个强盗，他们大叫一声，嘻嘻哈哈地跑开了；两分钟以后，他们就脱得赤条条的，跳进白沙滩上那片清澈透底的水里互相追逐，滚抱嬉戏。宽阔的河流对面，远远的地方，就是那个村庄，而他们并不想念。可能是一阵湍流也可能是一股上涨的潮水，冲走了他们的小木筏。他们却为此感到庆幸。因为没有了木筏，就像是烧毁了他们与文明世界间的桥梁，斩断了他们回返的念头。    他们回到露营地时，神采奕奕，兴致勃勃，却也饥肠辘辘；不久他们把那篝火又拨旺了。哈克在附近发现了一眼清泉，孩子们就用阔大的橡树叶和胡桃树叶做成杯子，他们觉得这泉水有股子森林的清香，完全可以取代咖啡。乔正在切咸肉片做早餐，汤姆和哈克让他稍候片刻；他们来到河边，相中了一个僻静之处，垂下鱼钩，不长时间就有了收获。还没到让乔等得不耐烦的时候，他们就拿回来几条漂亮的石首鱼，一对鲈鱼和一条小鲶鱼——这些鱼足够一大家人饱餐一顿。他们把鱼和咸肉放到一块煮，结果让人惊讶的是：鱼的味道竟然这么鲜美。他们不知道淡水鱼越趁活烧吃，味道越鲜美；另外，他们也没有想到露天睡觉、户外运动、洗澡以及饥饿会使食欲大增。他们并不明白饥者口中尽佳肴的道理。    吃罢早饭，他们就往树荫底下随便一倒，哈克抽了一袋烟；然后大家往树林里去，去探险。他们信步走去，一路跨朽木，涉杂林，穿过高大的树木林，这些大树披垂着一根根葡萄藤，好像王冠上垂下来的流苏。他们时不时地遇到一些幽僻的地方，地面长满青草，绽放着鲜花，宛如块块镶着宝石的绿色地毯。    他们看到了很多令人欣喜的东西，不过并没有什么稀奇古怪的玩意儿。他们发现这个岛大约有三英里长，四分之一英里宽，离河岸最近的地方只有一条狭窄的水道相隔，不足二百码宽。他们差不多每个钟头就游上一次泳，所以等他们回到宿营地时，已过去了半个下午。他们饿坏了，顾不得停下来捉鱼来吃，对着冷火腿，就是一番狼吞虎咽，吃罢就躺到荫凉下说话。说着说着就断断续续了，终于他们止住了话头。周遭的寂静、森林中的肃穆以及孤独感，慢慢地对这几个孩子的情绪发生了作用。他们开始沉思默想。一种莫名的渴望渐渐爬上他们心头——那是越来越强烈的思乡情绪。连赤手大盗费恩都在缅怀他从前睡觉的台阶和那些大空桶。但是他们对这种软弱感到害臊，没有一个人有勇气把心事公诸于众。    有一段时间，几个孩子隐隐约约地听到远处有一种奇怪的声响，就像你不特别留神时听到的钟摆的滴嗒滴嗒声。但后来这种神秘的声响越来越大，他们不得不弄清楚。孩子们愣了一下，互相对望一眼，接着像在侧耳细听。过了好久没有声音，只有死一般的寂静；后来，一阵沉闷的隆隆响声从远处滚荡而来。    “什么声音！”乔小声惊呼。    “我也不清楚。”汤姆低声说。    “那不是雷声，”哈克贝利说，声音里带有惊恐，“因为雷声——”    “你们听！”汤姆说，“听着——别吭声。”    他们等了仿佛好多年似的，这时划破寂空才又传来一阵沉闷的隆隆响声。    “走，去看看。”    他们一下子跳起来，赶忙朝镇子方向的岸边跑去。他们拨开河边的灌木丛，偷眼往水面观瞧。那只摆渡用的小蒸汽船在镇子下游大约一英里的地方，顺流而下。宽大的甲板上像是站满了人。另外有好多小船在渡船附近划动，漂来漂去，可孩子们却吃不准船上的人在干什么。后来，渡船边突地冒出来一大股白烟，它似闲云一般弥散升腾开来。与此同时，那种沉闷的声音又灌进他们的耳鼓。    “我知道了！”汤姆喊着，“有人淹死了！”    “是这么回事！”哈克说，“去年夏天，比尔·特纳掉到水里时，他们也就这样子的；他们向水面上打炮，这能让落水的人浮到水面上来。对，他们还用大块面包，灌上水银，放在水面上浮着。无论什么地方有人落人，面包就会径直漂过去，停在出事的地方。”    “对，我也听人讲过这事，”乔说，“不知道是什么使面包那么灵。”    “哦，大概不是面包自身有那么灵，”汤姆说，“我估计多半是人们事先对它念了咒语。”    “他们可不念什么咒语呀，”哈克说，“我亲眼所见，他们不念咒语。”    “唉，那就怪了，”汤姆说，“不过也许他们只是在心里默念。他们肯定念咒，这是明摆着的。”    另外，两个孩子认为面包无知无觉，如果没有人给它念咒语，它去干这么重大的事情，决不会干得那么出色。所以他们同意汤姆说的有道理。    “哎呀，现在要是我也在现场就好了。”乔说。“我也这么想，”哈克说。“我情愿拿很多东西来换，让人家告诉我是谁被淹死了。”    几个孩子仍在那儿听着，看着。突然一个念头在汤姆脑海里一闪，他恍然大悟地喊道：    “伙伴们，我晓得是谁淹死了——就是咱们呀！”    他们立刻觉得自己宛然成了英雄。这可是个可喜可贺的胜利。由此可见还有人惦记他们，有人哀悼他们，有人为他们伤心断肠，有人为他们痛哭流涕。那些人一想到自己曾经对这几个失踪的苦孩子怎么怎么不好，良心上就会受到谴责，就会愧疚不已，可是悔之晚矣。顶顶重要的是，全镇子的男女老少一定都在谈论这几个淹死的人，而别的孩子见他们如此声名显赫，既羡慕又忌妒。这真不赖。一句话，海盗当得值！    天色向晚，渡船又回到镇口摆渡去了，其余的小船也不见了。海盗们也回到了宿营地。他们想到自己新得的荣耀，想到给镇里人惹的响当当的麻烦，感到心满意足高兴极了。他们捉了鱼，做了晚饭吃罢后，就猜想起镇里人会怎么想他们，会怎么说；想象着人们为他们心急火燎的情形，心里十分满意——当然这是他们自己的感觉。可是，当茫茫夜色罩住大地，他们就渐渐停止了谈话，坐在那里，望着火堆，心不在焉。这会儿，兴奋劲儿过去了，汤姆和乔不由自主地想起了家里的某些人对这样过火的玩笑决不会像他们那样觉得开心。一阵恐惧袭上心头。他们不安起来，心情沉重，情不自禁地叹了一两口气。后来乔胆怯地抹着弯儿试探另外两个海盗的意思，想知道他们对回到文明世界去抱什么态度——不过不是马上就回去，只是——    汤姆奚落了他一番，给他兜头泼了瓢冷水。尚未加盟的哈克现在站在了汤姆一边。于是那个动摇分子马上为自己“辩护”，极力开脱自己，不想被胆小、想家的毛病损害了自家形象。叛乱总算暂时平定了下来。    夜色渐深，哈克打起盹来，不久便鼾声大作。乔也跟着进入了梦乡。汤姆用胳膊肘支着头，定睛看着他俩，很长时间，一动不动。最后，他双膝撑地小翼翼地站起来，在草地里和篝火的闪亮处搜寻。他捡起几块半圆形的梧桐树的白色薄皮，仔细看了看，最后选中两块中意的。然后他就在火堆旁跪下，用他那块红砚石在树皮上吃力地写了几个字；他把一块卷起来，放到上衣口袋里，另一块放在乔的帽子里，他把帽子挪远了一点后又在里面放了些被小学生视为无价之宝的东西——一截粉笔；一个橡皮球；三个钓鱼钩和一块叫做“纯水晶球”的石头。然后他就踮着脚尖，非常谨慎地从树林中溜出去，直到后来他认为别人已经听不见他的脚步，就立刻飞脚向沙滩那边直跑过去。
Chapter 15
A FEW minutes later Tom was in the shoal water of the bar, wading toward the Illinois shore. Before the depth reached his middle he was half-way over; the current would permit no more wading, now, so he struck out confidently to swim the remaining hundred yards. He swam quartering upstream, but still was swept downward rather faster than he had expected. However, he reached the shore finally, and drifted along till he found a low place and drew himself out. He put his hand on his jacket pocket, found his piece of bark safe, and then struck through the woods, following the shore, with streaming garments. Shortly before ten o'clock he came out into an open place opposite the village, and saw the ferryboat lying in the shadow of the trees and the high bank. Everything was quiet under the blinking stars. He crept down the bank, watching with all his eyes, slipped into the water, swam three or four strokes and climbed into the skiff that did "yawl" duty at the boat's stern. He laid himself down under the thwarts and waited, panting.
Presently the cracked bell tapped and a voice gave the order to "cast off." A minute or two later the skiff's head was standing high up, against the boat's swell, and the voyage was begun. Tom felt happy in his success, for he knew it was the boat's last trip for the night. At the end of a long twelve or fifteen minutes the wheels stopped, and Tom slipped overboard and swam ashore in the dusk, landing fifty yards downstream, out of danger of possible stragglers.
He flew along unfrequented alleys, and shortly found himself at his aunt's back fence. He climbed over, approached the "ell," and looked in at the sitting-room window, for a light was burning there. There sat Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, and Joe Harper's mother, grouped together, talking. They were by the bed, and the bed was between them and the door. Tom went to the door and began to softly lift the latch; then he pressed gently and the door yielded a crack; he continued pushing cautiously, and quaking every time it creaked, till he judged he might squeeze through on his knees; so he put his head through and began, warily.
"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 mid-channel, 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.  
第十五章　汤姆回家暗访，心花怒放返营房 
    几分钟之后，汤姆便到了沙洲的浅水滩上，向伊利诺斯州趟过去。趟到河中间时，水还不到腰部；后来流水转急趟水过河是不行了，他就很自信地决定游过剩下的一百码。他向上游游去，可是河水老是要把他往下游冲，流速比他想象的要快得多。最后他还是游到了岸边，又顺水漂了一段距离，在一处较低的河堤边爬上了岸。他伸手按了按上衣口袋，发觉树皮还在，就钻进河边的树林，身上的水一路淋淋漓漓。将近十点钟的时候，他从树林里走出来，来到镇子对面的一块开阔地，看到渡船正泊在高高的河堤旁下面的树荫里。天空中星辰闪烁，大地上万籁俱寂。他悄悄溜下河堤，睁大眼睛四处张望，然后潜入水中，游了三四下，就爬到船尾那只“突突”待命的小艇上了，躺在坐板下面，气喘吁吁地等着开船。    不久，船上的破钟敲响了，有人发出了“开船”的命令。一两分钟以后，小艇的船头被渡船裹挟的排浪冲得直竖起来，船启航了。汤姆庆幸自己赶上了这班船，他知道这可是当晚的最后一次摆渡了。好不容易熬过了这漫长的十二到十五分种，渡船终于停了下来，汤姆从小艇上溜下水，在暮色中向岸边游去，为了不让人遇见，他在下游五十码的地方安全地上了岸。他飞快地穿过冷冷清清的小巷，转眼间就到了姨妈家的后围墙下。他翻过围墙，走近厢房，见客厅的窗户里有光亮他就朝里张望，屋里坐着波莉姨妈、希德、玛丽，还有乔·哈帕的妈妈，大家正在聚谈。他们坐在床边，床摆在他们和门之间。汤姆走到门边，轻轻地拨开门闩，随后慢慢地推了一下，门狭开了一条缝。他又小心翼翼地推门。每次门响一声，他都吓得发抖，后来他估计可以趴着挤进去时，就把头先伸进去，心惊胆战地开始往里爬。    “烛光怎么摇得这么害？”波利姨妈问。汤姆急忙往里爬。“唉，我想门一定是开着的。唉，门果然开着，现在怪事真多，    没完没了。希德，去把门关上。”    汤姆这时刚好藏到了床底下。他躺在那里，等“缓过气来”之后，又爬过去，几乎能摸到姨妈的脚。    “但是，就像我刚才说的，”波莉姨妈说，“他不坏，可以这么说——他不过是淘气罢了，有点浮躁冒冒失失的。他只不过还是个毛头孩子。他可没有一点坏心眼，我从来还没见过像他那么心地善良的孩子。嘿……”她开始哭了起来。    “我的乔也正是这样——调皮捣蛋，凡是淘气的事，他都占上。可他不自私，心眼好。天哪！想起揍他的事，我就难过。我以为他偷吃了奶酪，不分青红皂白地拿鞭子抽了他一顿，压根没想到是奶酪酸了，我亲手倒掉的。好了，这下子，我别想活着见到他了，永远、永远、永远也见不着了。这个可怜的、受尽虐待的孩子啊！”接着哈帕太太似乎伤心至极，哽咽着，泣不成声。    “我希望汤姆现在活得很快活，”希德说，“不过他以前有些事干得不怎么样……”    “希德！”汤姆尽管看不清，但却感觉到老太太是瞪着眼睛在跟希德讲话。“汤姆已经走了，不许你再说他一句坏话！有老天爷照顾他——用不着您来操心，我的先生！哦，哈帕太太，我简直不知道怎样才能忘掉他！我简直不知道怎样才能忘掉他！虽然他从前常折磨我这颗衰老的心，但他毕竟也给了我极大的安慰啊。”“上帝把他们赐给我们，又把他们收回去了，——感谢上帝！可这太残酷了——啊，实在让人受不了！就在上星期六，我的乔在我面前放了个炮竹，我就把他打趴在地上。谁知道这么快他就……啊，要是一切能从头再来一次，我一定会搂着他，夸他干得好。”    “是啊，是啊，是啊，我理解你的心情，哈帕太太，我完全理解。就在昨天中午，我的汤姆逮住猫给它灌了很多止痛药，当时我认为这下子它会把家给毁掉。真是对不起老天爷，我拿顶针敲了汤姆的头，可怜的孩子，我那可怜的短命的孩子啊。不过，现在他总算从万般烦恼中解脱出来。我最后听见他说的话就是责备我……”    老太太说着说着，伤心得实在说不下去了，她一下子放声哭起来。此时的汤姆鼻子也发起酸来——这倒不是他在同情别人，而是在可怜自己。他听见玛丽也在哭，还时不时为他说上一两句好话。他从没有像现在这样感到自己是个不平凡的人。还有，姨妈伤心的样子深深地打动汤姆，他真想从床下面冲出来，让她惊喜欲狂——再说汤姆也十分喜欢制造些富于戏剧性的场景，但这一次他却沉住气，没有动弹。    他继续听着，从零零星星的谈话中得知，开头人们以为几个孩子在游泳中淹死了；其后他们又发现那只小木筏不见了；接着又有些孩子说这几个失踪的孩子曾暗示过镇上人不久将“听到重大新闻”；那些有头脑的聪明人根据东拼西凑的消息断定几个小家伙一定是撑着小木筏出去了，不久就会在下游的村镇里出现；但是时近中午，人们发现木筏停在镇子下游五六英里的密西西比河岸边——可孩子们不在上边，于是希望成了泡影，破灭了；他们准是淹死了，否则的话，不要到天黑，他们就会饿得往家来。大家认为打捞尸体是徒劳无获的，因为几个孩子一定是在河当中淹死的，要不然，凭他们那么好的水性，早就凫到岸上来了。今天是星期三晚上。要是到星期天还找不着尸体的话，那什么希望都没有了，星期天早上就举行丧礼。汤姆听到这里，浑身一阵簌簌乱抖。    哈帕太太带着哭腔道了声晚安就要走。这两个失去亲人的女人忽然一阵激动，抱在一起痛痛快快地哭了一场后，这才分手。波莉姨妈在与希德和玛丽道别时，一反惯例，显得万分温柔。希德有点抽鼻子，玛丽却是大哭着走的。    波莉姨妈跪下来，为汤姆祈祷。她祈祷得如怨如泣，令人感动。汤姆见她老人家声音颤抖，话里充满无限爱意，还没有等她说完他已是以泪洗面了。    波莉姨妈上床以后很久，因为她很伤心，不时地发出长吁短叹，睡思不宁，辗转反侧，久不成眠。但到后来，她还是安静地睡了，只不过偶尔还能听到一两声的呻吟声。于是汤姆便从床底下钻出来，慢慢地站起，用手挡住烛光，立在床边端详着她。心里对她充满了怜悯。他从口袋里捣出梧桐树皮，放在蜡烛旁边。可是他忽然想起了什么事，犹豫了一下。他作出了一个愉快的决定，脸上露出了喜色；他赶忙把树皮放到口袋里。接着他弯下腰来，吻了吻那憔悴的嘴唇，就悄悄地径直向门口走去，走时还把门给闩好了。    他转弯抹角，回到了渡船码头，发现那里没人走动，就大胆地上了船。他知道船上只有一个守船的人，没别的人，而他总是睡觉，睡起觉来像个雕像一样。他解开船尾的小艇，悄悄跳上去，很快就小心翼翼地向上游划去。他划离了村子有一英哩时，调转船头，全力以赴，冲着对岸径直划过去。他很娴熟地就靠上了岸，这对他来说只是雕虫小技而已。他很想把这只小船据为己有，理由是完全可以把它当作一艘大船，因此而被海盗掳获，正在情理之中。但他转念一想，丢了这只艇，人家一定会四处搜寻，这样反而会将事情败露，所以他就弃舟登岸，钻进了树林。    他坐下来，歇了好一阵子，同时拼命克制住睡意，然后又小心谨慎地向露营地所在的河湾走去。此时一夜将尽。当他走到岛上的沙滩时，天已大亮。他又歇了一歇，直到日上三竿，光芒四射，宽阔的河面上金波雀跃，他又往河里纵身一跳。一小会儿之后，他浑身水淋淋地站在宿营地的门口，听见乔说：    “不会的，汤姆是最守信用的，哈克，他会回来。他不会抛弃我们。他知道这样做对一个海盗来说是不体面的，像汤姆这样爱面子的人，是不会干出这种事情的。他一定是有事出去了。不过，他究竟干什么去了呢？”    “哎，不管怎么说，这些玩意儿归我们了，对不对？”    “差不多吧，不过还不能肯定，哈克。他条子上说，如果吃早饭时，他还没回到这儿来，这些东西就归我们了。”    “说曹操，曹操到！”汤姆喊了一声，像演戏一样，神气十足地大步流星走了进来。    不久，一顿丰盛的咸肉加鲜鱼的早餐便端了上来，孩子们围坐着，一边大口大口吃早饭，汤姆一边讲述了他回家的经历，还不忘添油加醋。汤姆讲罢，他们成了一群虚荣心强、自命不凡的英雄。然后汤姆就躲到一个阴凉幽静的地方去睡觉，一直睡到中午。其余两个海盗，忙着为钓鱼和探险做准备。
Chapter 16
AFTER dinner all the gang turned out to hunt for turtle eggs on the bar. They went about poking sticks into the sand, and when they found a soft place they went down on their knees and dug with their hands. Sometimes they would take fifty or sixty eggs out of one hole. They were perfectly round white things a trifle smaller than an English walnut. They had a famous fried-egg feast that night, and another on Friday morning.
After breakfast they went whooping and prancing out on the bar, and chased each other round and round, shedding clothes as they went, until they were naked, and then continued the frolic far away up the shoal water of the bar, against the stiff current, which latter tripped their legs from under them from time to time and greatly increased the fun. And now and then they stooped in a group and splashed water in each other's faces with their palms, gradually approaching each other, with averted faces to avoid the strangling sprays, and finally gripping and struggling till the best man ducked his neighbor, and then they all went under in a tangle of white legs and arms and came up blowing, sputtering, laughing, and gasping for breath at one and the same time.
When they were well exhausted, they would run out and sprawl on the dry, hot sand, and lie there and cover themselves up with it, and by and by break for the water again and go through the original performance once more. Finally it occurred to them that their naked skin represented flesh-colored "tights" very fairly; so they drew a ring in the sand and had a circus -- with three clowns in it, for none would yield this proudest post to his neighbor.
Next they got their marbles and played "knucks" and "ring-taw" and "keeps" till that amusement grew stale. Then Joe and Huck had another swim, but Tom would not venture, because he found that in kicking off his trousers he had kicked his string of rattlesnake rattles off his ankle, and he wondered how he had escaped cramp so long without the protection of this mysterious charm. He did not venture again until he had found it, and by that time the other boys were tired and ready to rest. They gradually wandered apart, dropped into the "dumps," and fell to gazing longingly across the wide river to where the village lay drowsing in the sun. Tom found himself writing "BECKY" in the sand with his big toe; he scratched it out, and was angry with himself for his weakness. But he wrote it again, nevertheless; he could not help it. He erased it once more and then took himself out of temptation by driving the other boys together and joining them.
But Joe's spirits had gone down almost beyond resurrection. He was so homesick that he could hardly endure the misery of it. The tears lay very near the surface. Huck was melancholy, too. Tom was downhearted, but tried hard not to show it. He had a secret which he was not ready to tell, yet, but if this mutinous depression was not broken up soon, he would have to bring it out. He said, with a great show of cheerfulness:
"I bet there's been pirates on this island before, boys. We'll explore it again. They've hid treasures here somewhere. How'd you feel to light on a rotten chest full of gold and silver -- hey?"
But it roused only faint enthusiasm, which faded out, with no reply. Tom tried one or two other seductions; but they failed, too. It was discouraging work. Joe sat poking up the sand with a stick and looking very gloomy. Finally he said:
"Oh, boys, let's give it up. I want to go home. It's so lonesome."
"Oh no, Joe, you'll feel better by and by," said Tom. "Just think of the fishing that's here."
"I don't care for fishing. I want to go home."
"But, Joe, there ain't such another swimming-place anywhere."
"Swimming's no good. I don't seem to care for it, somehow, when there ain't anybody to say I sha'n't go in. I mean to go home."
"Oh, shucks! Baby! You want to see your mother, I reckon."
"Yes, I DO want to see my mother -- and you would, too, if you had one. I ain't any more baby than you are." And Joe snuffled a little.
"Well, we'll let the cry-baby go home to his mother, won't we, Huck? Poor thing -- does it want to see its mother? And so it shall. you like it here, don't you, Huck? We'll stay, won't we?"
Huck said, "Y-e-s" -- without any heart in it.
"I'll never speak to you again as long as I live," said Joe, rising. "There now!" And he moved moodily away and began to dress himself.
"Who cares!" said Tom. "Nobody wants you to. Go 'long home and get laughed at. Oh, you're a nice pirate. Huck and me ain't cry-babies. We'll stay, won't we, Huck? Let him go if he wants to. I reckon we can get along without him, per'aps."
But Tom was uneasy, nevertheless, and was alarmed to see Joe go sullenly on with his dressing. And then it was discomforting to see Huck eying Joe's preparations so wistfully, and keeping up such an ominous silence. Presently, without a parting word, Joe began to wade off toward the Illinois shore. Tom's heart began to sink. He glanced at Huck. Huck could not bear the look, and dropped his eyes. Then he said:
"I want to go, too, Tom. It was getting so lonesome anyway, and now it'll be worse. Let's us go, too, Tom."
"I won't! You can all go, if you want to. I mean to stay."
"Tom, I better go."
"Well, go 'long -- who's hendering you."
Huck began to pick up his scattered clothes. He said:
"Tom, I wisht you'd come, too. Now you think it over. We'll wait for you when we get to shore."
"Well, you'll wait a blame long time, that's all."
Huck started sorrowfully away, and Tom stood looking after him, with a strong desire tugging at his heart to yield his pride and go along too. He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still. He made one final struggle with his pride, and then darted after his comrades, yelling:
"Wait! Wait! I want to tell you something!"
They presently stopped and turned around. When he got to where they were, he began unfolding his secret, and they listened moodily till at last they saw the "point" he was driving at, and then they set up a war-whoop of applause and said it was "splendid!" and said if he had told them at first, they wouldn't have started away. He made a plausible excuse; but his real reason had been the fear that not even the secret would keep them with him any very great length of time, and so he had meant to hold it in reserve as a last seduction.
The lads came gayly back and went at their sports again with a will, chattering all the time about Tom's stupendous plan and admiring the genius of it. After a dainty egg and fish dinner, Tom said he wanted to learn to smoke, now. Joe caught at the idea and said he would like to try, too. So Huck made pipes and filled them. These novices had never smoked anything before but cigars made of grape-vine, and they "bit" the tongue, and were not considered manly anyway.
Now they stretched themselves out on their elbows and began to puff, charily, and with slender confidence. The smoke had an unpleasant taste, and they gagged a little, but Tom said:
"Why, it's just as easy! If I'd a knowed this was all, I'd a learnt long ago."
"So would I," said Joe. "It's just nothing."
"Why, many a time I've looked at people smoking, and thought well I wish I could do that; but I never thought I could," said Tom.
"That's just the way with me, hain't it, Huck? You've heard me talk just that way -- haven't you, Huck? I'll leave it to Huck if I haven't."
"Yes -- heaps of times," said Huck.
"Well, I have too," said Tom; "oh, hundreds of times. Once down by the slaughter-house. Don't you remember, Huck? Bob Tanner was there, and Johnny Miller, and Jeff Thatcher, when I said it. Don't you remember, Huck, 'bout me saying that?"
"Yes, that's so," said Huck. "That was the day after I lost a white alley. No, 'twas the day before."
"There -- I told you so," said Tom. "Huck recollects it."
"I bleeve I could smoke this pipe all day," said Joe. "I don't feel sick."
"Neither do I," said Tom. "I could smoke it all day. But I bet you Jeff Thatcher couldn't."
"Jeff Thatcher! Why, he'd keel over just with two draws. Just let him try it once. He'd see!"
"I bet he would. And Johnny Miller -- I wish could see Johnny Miller tackle it once."
"Oh, don't I!" said Joe. "Why, I bet you Johnny Miller couldn't any more do this than nothing. Just one little snifter would fetch him."
"'Deed it would, Joe. Say -- I wish the boys could see us now."
"So do I."
"Say -- boys, don't say anything about it, and some time when they're around, I'll come up to you and say, 'Joe, got a pipe? I want a smoke.' And you'll say, kind of careless like, as if it warn't anything, you'll say, 'Yes, I got my old pipe, and another one, but my tobacker ain't very good.' And I'll say, 'Oh, that's all right, if it's strong enough.' And then you'll out with the pipes, and we'll light up just as ca'm, and then just see 'em look!"
"By jings, that'll be gay, Tom! I wish it was now!"
"So do I! And when we tell 'em we learned when we was off pirating, won't they wish they'd been along?"
"Oh, I reckon not! I'll just bet they will!"
So the talk ran on. But presently it began to flag a trifle, and grow disjointed. The silences widened; the expectoration marvellously increased. Every pore inside the boys' cheeks became a spouting fountain; they could scarcely bail out the cellars under their tongues fast enough to prevent an inundation; little overflowings down their throats occurred in spite of all they could do, and sudden retchings followed every time. Both boys were looking very pale and miserable, now. Joe's pipe dropped from his nerveless fingers. Tom's followed. Both fountains were going furiously and both pumps bailing with might and main. Joe said feebly:
"I've lost my knife. I reckon I better go and find it."
Tom said, with quivering lips and halting utterance:
"I'll help you. You go over that way and I'll hunt around by the spring. No, you needn't come, Huck -- we can find it."
So Huck sat down again, and waited an hour. Then he found it lonesome, and went to find his comrades. They were wide apart in the woods, both very pale, both fast asleep. But something informed him that if they had had any trouble they had got rid of it.
They were not talkative at supper that night. They had a humble look, and when Huck prepared his pipe after the meal and was going to prepare theirs, they said no, they were not feeling very well -- something they ate at dinner had disagreed with them.
About midnight Joe awoke, and called the boys. There was a brooding oppressiveness in the air that seemed to bode something. The boys huddled themselves together and sought the friendly companionship of the fire, though the dull dead heat of the breathless atmosphere was stifling. They sat still, intent and waiting. The solemn hush continued. Beyond the light of the fire everything was swallowed up in the blackness of darkness. Presently there came a quivering glow that vaguely revealed the foliage for a moment and then vanished. By and by another came, a little stronger. Then another. Then a faint moan came sighing through the branches of the forest and the boys felt a fleeting breath upon their cheeks, and shuddered with the fancy that the Spirit of the Night had gone by. There was a pause. Now a weird flash turned night into day and showed every little grass-blade, separate and distinct, that grew about their feet. And it showed three white, startled faces, too. A deep peal of thunder went rolling and tumbling down the heavens and lost itself in sullen rumblings in the distance. A sweep of chilly air passed by, rustling all the leaves and snowing the flaky ashes broadcast about the fire. Another fierce glare lit up the forest and an instant crash followed that seemed to rend the tree-tops right over the boys' heads. They clung together in terror, in the thick gloom that followed. A few big rain-drops fell pattering upon the leaves.
"Quick! boys, go for the tent!" exclaimed Tom.
They sprang away, stumbling over roots and among vines in the dark, no two plunging in the same direction. A furious blast roared through the trees, making everything sing as it went. One blinding flash after another came, and peal on peal of deafening thunder. And now a drenching rain poured down and the rising hurricane drove it in sheets along the ground. The boys cried out to each other, but the roaring wind and the booming thunder-blasts drowned their voices utterly. However, one by one they straggled in at last and took shelter under the tent, cold, scared, and streaming with water; but to have company in misery seemed something to be grateful for. They could not talk, the old sail flapped so furiously, even if the other noises would have allowed them. The tempest rose higher and higher, and presently the sail tore loose from its fastenings and went winging away on the blast. The boys seized each others' hands and fled, with many tumblings and bruises, to the shelter of a great oak that stood upon the river-bank. Now the battle was at its highest. Under the ceaseless conflagration of lightning that flamed in the skies, everything below stood out in clean-cut and shadowless distinctness: the bending trees, the billowy river, white with foam, the driving spray of spume-flakes, the dim outlines of the high bluffs on the other side, glimpsed through the drifting cloud-rack and the slanting veil of rain. Every little while some giant tree yielded the fight and fell crashing through the younger growth; and the unflagging thunderpeals came now in ear-splitting explosive bursts, keen and sharp, and unspeakably appalling. The storm culminated in one matchless effort that seemed likely to tear the island to pieces, burn it up, drown it to the tree-tops, blow it away, and deafen every creature in it, all at one and the same moment. It was a wild night for homeless young heads to be out in.
But at last the battle was done, and the forces retired with weaker and weaker threatenings and grumblings, and peace resumed her sway. The boys went back to camp, a good deal awed; but they found there was still something to be thankful for, because the great sycamore, the shelter of their beds, was a ruin, now, blasted by the lightnings, and they were not under it when the catastrophe happened.
Everything in camp was drenched, the camp-fire as well; for they were but heedless lads, like their generation, and had made no provision against rain. Here was matter for dismay, for they were soaked through and chilled. They were eloquent in their distress; but they presently discovered that the fire had eaten so far up under the great log it had been built against (where it curved upward and separated itself from the ground), that a handbreadth or so of it had escaped wetting; so they patiently wrought until, with shreds and bark gathered from the under sides of sheltered logs, they coaxed the fire to burn again. Then they piled on great dead boughs till they had a roaring furnace, and were glad-hearted once more. They dried their boiled ham and had a feast, and after that they sat by the fire and expanded and glorified their midnight adventure until morning, for there was not a dry spot to sleep on, anywhere around.
As the sun began to steal in upon the boys, drowsiness came over them, and they went out on the sandbar and lay down to sleep. They got scorched out by and by, and drearily set about getting breakfast. After the meal they felt rusty, and stiff-jointed, and a little homesick once more. Tom saw the signs, and fell to cheering up the pirates as well as he could. But they cared nothing for marbles, or circus, or swimming, or anything. He reminded them of the imposing secret, and raised a ray of cheer. While it lasted, he got them interested in a new device. This was to knock off being pirates, for a while, and be Indians for a change. They were attracted by this idea; so it was not long before they were stripped, and striped from head to heel with black mud, like so many zebras -- all of them chiefs, of course -- and then they went tearing through the woods to attack an English settlement.
By and by they separated into three hostile tribes, and darted upon each other from ambush with dreadful war-whoops, and killed and scalped each other by thousands. It was a gory day. Consequently it was an extremely satisfactory one.
They assembled in camp toward supper-time, hungry and happy; but now a difficulty arose -- hostile Indians could not break the bread of hospitality together without first making peace, and this was a simple impossibility without smoking a pipe of peace. There was no other process that ever they had heard of. Two of the savages almost wished they had remained pirates. However, there was no other way; so with such show of cheerfulness as they could muster they called for the pipe and took their whiff as it passed, in due form.
And behold, they were glad they had gone into savagery, for they had gained something; they found that they could now smoke a little without having to go and hunt for a lost knife; they did not get sick enough to be seriously uncomfortable. They were not likely to fool away this high promise for lack of effort. No, they practised cautiously, after supper, with right fair success, and so they spent a jubilant evening. They were prouder and happier in their new acquirement than they would have been in the scalping and skinning of the Six Nations. We will leave them to smoke and chatter and brag, since we have no further use for them at present.  
第十六章　初学抽烟——“丢了小刀” 
    午饭以后，海盗帮全体出动到沙洲上去找乌龟蛋。他们用树枝往沙子里戳，戳到软的地方，就跪下来用手挖。有时候，他们一窝就能弄出五六十只乌龟蛋来。这些蛋呈白色，圆溜溜的。那天晚上，他们吃了一顿美味可口的煎蛋，星期五早上又饱啖了一回。    早饭后，他们欢呼雀跃地向沙洲奔去。他们相互追逐，转着圈圈跑，边跑边脱掉身上的衣服，等全身脱个精光后，继续嬉闹，一直跑到沙洲的浅水滩上，逆着水流站着，水流从他们腿上冲过，时常要把他们冲倒，这种冒险给他们带来了极大的乐趣。有时候，他们弯腰曲背站在一块，互相用手掌往对方脸上击水。大家越击越近，头歪向一边，避开透不过气来的水。最后，他们扭成一团，经过一番拼搏，弱者终于被按到水里，于是大家一齐钻进水里，几双雪白的胳膊和腿在水里缠在一起，然后猛地钻出水面就喷水，哈哈大笑，气喘如牛。    等玩得累极了，他们就跑到岸上，四肢朝天，往又干又热的沙滩的一躺，拿沙子盖住自己。过一会儿，又冲进水里，再打一次水仗。后来他们忽然想起，自己身上裸露的皮肤完全可以当成是肉色的“紧身衣”，这样他们就在沙滩上划了个大圆圈，开始演马戏——由于互不相让，谁也不愿失去扮演这最神气角色的机会，结果台上出现了三个小丑。    再后来，他们就拿出石头弹子，玩“补锅”、“敲锅”和“碰着就赢”，一直玩到兴尽意阑为止。然后乔和哈克又去游泳，但汤姆却没敢去冒这个险，因为他发现刚才他踢掉裤子时，把拴在脚踝上的一串响尾轮也给踢飞了。他很纳闷没有这个护身符保佑，刚才玩闹这么久，居然没有出事。后来他找回了护身符，这才敢去玩，但这时另外两个伙伴已经玩累了，准备歇一歇。于是他们就“道不同不相为谋”，个个意兴索然，不由得眼巴巴地望着宽阔的大河对岸出神，那里他们向往的小镇正在阳光下打盹。汤姆发现自己不由自主地用脚趾头在沙滩上写“贝基”。他把字迹抹掉，对自己大为恼火，恨自己意志薄弱。然而，他还是情不自禁地又写了这个名字。他再一次把名字擦掉，为了防止再写下去，他把两个伙伴弄到一处，自己也和他们一块儿玩起来。    但是乔的情绪一落千丈。他非常想家，简直忍无可忍，泪水在眼眶里打着转儿。哈克也闷闷不乐。汤姆虽然也意志消沉，却尽力不流露出来。他有一个秘密，不打算马上说出来，但眼下这股消沉的士气必须扭转，他不得不亮出这张王牌了。    他露出兴味盎然的样子说：    “伙计们，我敢打赌这个岛以前有过海盗，我们得再去探险。他们一定把珠宝藏在这个的某个地方了。要是让我们碰到一个烂箱子，里面全是金银财宝，诸位会作何感想？”    对他的话，两个伙伴没有答理，刚起来的一点劲头也随之消失了。汤姆又试着用另外一两件事情来诱惑他们，均告失败。这真让人扫兴。乔坐在那里用小树枝拨弄沙子，一副愁眉苦脸相。最后他说：    “喂，我说，伙计们，就此罢手吧。我要回家，这实在太寂寞了。”    “哎，乔，这不成。你慢慢会觉得好起来的，”汤姆说，“在这儿钓鱼不是很开心吗？”    “我不喜欢钓鱼。我要回家。”    “但是，乔，别的地方有这么好的游泳胜地吗！”    “游泳有什么好的。即使现在有人说不让我下水，我也不在乎。我就是要回家。”    “哼，岂有此理！像个找妈妈的小婴儿。”    “对，我就是要去找我妈妈——要是你也有妈妈，你也会想着去找她的。你说我是小婴儿，其实你又有多大呢。”说着说着，乔就有点抽鼻子。    “好吧，咱们就让这个好哭的小婴儿回家去找妈妈，好不好，哈克？可怜虫——他要去找妈妈？让他去好了。你一准喜欢这儿，对不对，哈克？咱俩留在这儿，好吗？    哈克不轻不重地说了声：“也——行。”    “到死我都不会再跟你说话，”乔说着站起身来，“你等着瞧吧！”他悻悻地走开，并且开始穿衣服。    “谁稀罕！”汤姆说。“没谁求你跟他说话。滚回去吧，让人家看你的笑话去吧。哟，你是个伟大海盗。哈克和我不是好哭的小婴儿。我们要留在这儿，对不对，哈克？他要走，就让他走好了。我想没有他，咱们说不定也一样过得好好的。”    然而汤姆心里却不是滋味，他看见乔脸色阴沉，只顾穿衣服，不免有些惊慌。而哈克老是盯着准备回家的乔，一言不发，一副想与之同往的神情，更令他心神不宁。接着，乔连一个字的道别话都没说便开始下水，向伊利诺斯州那边趟过去。汤姆的心开始往下沉。他瞟了一眼哈克，哈克受不了他这么一看垂下眼帘。后来他说：    “汤姆我也要回家。咱们呆在这儿也越来越孤单。汤姆，咱们也走吧。”    “我决不走！你们要想走，那全走吧。我是要留下来的。”    “汤姆，我还是回去为好。”    “行，去吧！去吧！谁拦你了？”    哈克开始东一件西一件地拾自己的衣服。他说：    “汤姆，我希望你也一起走。你好好考虑一下。我们到岸边等你。”    “哼，你们尽管他妈的都去吧，没什么好说的了。”    哈克伤心地走了，汤姆站在那里，看着他的背影，心里激烈地斗争着，真想抛开自尊也跟着他们走。他希望那两个伙伴站住，可他们仍旧在慢慢趟着水向前走。汤姆忽然觉得周围如此冷清，如此寂寞。在和自尊作了最后一次较量后，他终于直奔向两个伙伴，一边跑一边喊：    “等一等！等一等！我有话要跟你们讲！”    他们立刻站住，转过身来。他走到他们跟前，就把那个秘密向他们亮了出来。他们起初闷闷不乐地听着，等到明白了他的“真正意图”时，便欢呼雀跃起来，连呼“太妙了！”他们说要是他一开头就告诉他们，他们怎么也不会走的。他巧妙地搪塞了过去，其实他担心的是：这个秘密不知道是否能让他们在这岛上呆上一阵子，所以他有意识地守口如瓶，不到万不得已，不亮出这张王牌。    小家伙们又兴高采烈地回来了，痛痛快快地做着游戏，不停谈论着汤姆那伟大的计划，称赞他足智多谋。他们吃完一顿美味的龟蛋和鲜鱼之后，汤姆说他要学抽烟。乔表示赞同，说他也想试一试。于是，哈克就做了两个烟斗，装上烟叶。这两个外行除了葡萄藤做的雪茄而外，从没抽过别的烟，那种雪茄烟让舌发麻，而且看起来也特别土气。    他们用胳膊肘支着，侧身躺着开始抽烟，抽得小心翼翼，信心并非十足。烟的味道不怎么样，呛得他们有点喘不过气来，可是汤姆说：“嘿，抽烟有什么难的！我以前不知道抽烟不过如此，要是知道的话，我早就学会了。”    “我也是，”乔说，“这根本不值一提。”    汤姆说：“哎，有好多次我看到别人抽烟，我就想我要会抽就好了；可从没想到我能抽哩。”    “哈克，我也是这样的，是不是？”乔说，“你听我这样说过的，对不对，哈克？要是假话，我任听你摆布。”    “是的，他说过——说过好多次。”哈克说。    “嘿，我也说过呀，”汤姆说，“唔，总有上百次吧。有回是在屠宰场。你忘了吧，哈克？当时，鲍勃·唐纳在场，约翰尼·米勒、杰夫·撒切尔也在。想起来了吧，哈克？”“想起来，是有这么回事，”哈克说，“那是我丢掉白石头弹子后的那一天。不对，是前一天。”    “瞧——我说我说了吧，”汤姆说。“哈克回想起来了。”“我觉得我整天抽烟都没问题，”乔说。“我不觉得恶心。”“我也不觉得恶心，”汤姆说，“我也能成天地抽这种烟。    但我敢打赌杰夫·撒切尔就不行。”    “杰夫·撒切尔！嘿，让他抽上一两口他就会一头昏倒。    不信让他试试看。一次就够他呛的！”    “我敢打赌他够呛。还有约翰尼·米勒——我倒很想让约翰尼·米勒尝两口。”    “啊，鬼才不这么想呐！”乔说。“嘿，我敢说约翰尼·米勒干这事最熊。他只要闻一下这味儿就会被置于死地。”    “的确如此，乔。哎——我真希望那些小子能看到我们现在的样子。”    “我也这么想。”    “哎——伙计们，先别提这桩事，以后找个机会，趁他们在场时，我就过来问：‘乔，带烟斗了吗？我想抽两口。’你就摆出一副大剌剌的样子，就像这根本算不上一码事，你说：‘带了，这是我那根老烟斗，喏，这还多一根，不过我的叶子不太好喔。’我就说：‘哦，没关系，只要够冲就行。’然后你就掏出烟斗，咱俩点上火来抽，慢条斯理，让他们瞧个够。”    “呃，那真有趣，汤姆！我恨不得现在就抽给他们看！”    “我也这么想！我要告诉他们，我们是在外当海盗时学会的，他们能不希望当初跟我们一块来吗？”    “嗯，当然希望喽！我敢打赌他们准会的！”    谈话就这样继续下去。但不久他们就开始泄气了，讲出的话前言不搭后语。后来便沉默不语了。他们吐痰，越吐越厉害。这两个孩子的腮帮子里面的口水如喷泉；舌头底下好像是个积满水的地窖，为了不泛滥成灾，得赶忙把水往外排；但无论他们怎么尽力把水往外吐，嗓子里还是有一股股的水涌上来，连带着一阵阵恶心。此刻，两个孩子看起来都脸色煞白，一副惨相。乔的烟斗接着也掉了。两个人的口水只管喷泉似地朝外涌，两个抽水机全力以赴往外抽水。乔有气无力地说：    “我的小刀不见了。我想我得去找找看。”    汤姆嘴唇发抖，吞吞吐吐地说：    “我帮着你找。你到那边去找，我到泉水旁边看看。不，哈克，不用你来帮忙——我俩能找到。”    于是哈克重新坐下来等着。一个小时后，他觉得有些孤单，便动身去找同伴。他俩东一个，西一个相去甚远，脸色苍白地倒在林中睡大觉。他看得出他们俩抽烟不太适应，不过现在这种难受已经过去了。    当晚吃饭时，大家的话都不怎么多。乔和汤姆看上去可怜巴巴的。饭后，哈克准备好自己烟斗，正打算也给他们准备，他俩说不用了，因为晚饭吃的东西有点不大对劲，他们觉得有些不舒服。    夜半光景，乔醒了，叫另外两个孩子。空气闷热逼人，似乎要变天。尽管天气又闷又热令人窒息，几个孩子还是相互依偎在一起，尽力靠近那堆火。他们全神贯注默默坐在那里，等待着。周围还是一片肃静。除了那堆火，一切都被漆黑的夜色吞噬了。不一会儿，远处划过一道亮光，隐约照在树叶上，只一闪便消失了。不久，又划过一道更强烈的闪光。接着又一道。这时候，穿过森林的枝叶，传来一阵低吼声，几个孩子仿佛觉得有一股气息拂过脸颊，以为是幽灵过去了，吓得瑟瑟发抖。一阵短暂的间隙过后，又是一道悚目惊心的闪光，把黑夜照得亮如白昼，他们脚下的小草也历历可辨；同时，三张惨白、惊惧的脸也毕露无遗。一阵沉雷轰轰隆隆当空滚过，渐去渐远，消失在遥远的天边。一阵凉风袭来，树叶沙沙作响，火堆里的灰，雪花似地四处飞撒。又一道强光照亮了树林，响雷紧随其后，仿佛就要把孩子们头顶上的树梢一劈两半。之后，又是一团漆黑，几个孩子吓得抱成一团，几颗大雨点噼哩啪啦砸在树叶上。    “快，伙计们！快撤到帐篷里去！”汤姆大喊。    他们撒腿就跑，黑暗中不时绊上树根和藤蔓，由于极度害怕，他们拼命地朝不同方向跑。一阵狂风呼啸而过，所到之处，簌簌作响。耀眼的闪电一道紧跟着一道，震耳的雷声一阵尾随着一阵。片刻之间，倾盆大雨劈头泼下，阵阵狂风又沿着地面把它们刮成了一片片雨幕。孩子们相互呼喊着，可是风吼雷啸，把他们的呼喊声完全盖住了。不过，他们终于一个接一个地冲回了露营地，在帐篷底下躲起来，又冷又怕，浑身精湿。好在在这样恶劣的环境下，大家守在一块，总算是不幸中的万幸。他们讲不出话来，因为那块旧帆篷噼噼啪啪响得太厉害，这么大的噪音实在没法交谈。狂风越刮越猛，不久便吹断了系帆篷的绳子，把它一卷而飞。孩子们手挽着手，逃向河岸上一棵大橡树底下躲雨，一路上磕磕绊绊，碰破了许多地方。这时候，天空中风、雨、闪、雷交加，狂暴至极。闪电把天空也照亮了，把天宇下的万物映衬得分外鲜明；被风吹弯的树木、白浪翻腾的大河、大片随风飞舞的泡沫以及河对岸高耸的悬崖峭壁的模糊轮廓，都在那飞渡的乱云和斜飘的雨幕中乍隐乍现。每隔一会，就有一棵大树不敌狂风，哗啦一声扑倒在小树丛中；惊雷如潮，震耳欲聋，惊魂夺魄，难以言状。最后的这一阵暴风雨更是威力无比，似乎要在片刻之间，把这个小岛撕成碎片，烧成灰烬，淹没树顶，再把它吹个无影无踪，要把岛上的生灵都震昏震聋。对这几个离家出走的孩子们来说，这一夜实在够他们受的了。    但是，最后暴风雨总算过去了，风声雨声渐渐平息下来，一切又恢复了宁静。孩子们回到了宿营地；他们发现被吓得够呛，值得庆幸的是紧挨着他们床铺的那棵梧桐树被雷劈倒，而雷殛之时，他们恰巧不在树下。露营地的一切都被大雨淋透了，那堆篝火也给浇灭了。这几个孩子毕竟缺乏经验，就像他们的同龄人一样，没有想到要去防雨。更倒霉的是，他们都成了落汤鸡，冷得受不了。那副狼狈相不言自喻。不过他们很快发现，原先那堆火已经把他们靠着生火的那根倒在地上的大树干（在它弯起离地面有些距离的地方）烧得凹进去很深，因此有块巴掌大的地方没有被雨淋湿。于是他们极有耐性地想方设法，从那些有遮掩的树下，寻来些碎叶、树皮做火引子，总算又把那堆火救活了。随后他们又添了许多枯树枝，让火苗呼呼直窜，这才感到兴高采烈。他们把熟火腿烘干，炮餐一顿。吃罢就坐在火堆旁，把夜半的历险大肆渲染一番，一直聊到清早，因为周围没有一处能睡觉的干地方。    太阳渐渐升起来，照在孩子们的身上，他们感到困倦难耐，就从林子里走出来，到沙滩上躺下来睡觉。不久，他们浑身被太阳晒得燥热，就站起来懒洋洋地弄饭吃。吃罢，他们都觉得周身酸痛，骨节发硬，于是又有点想家了。汤姆看出了苗头，极力说些开心的事，想打起那两个海盗的精神。可是，他们对石头弹子、马戏、游泳等一切游戏都不感兴趣了。他又们提起了那个秘密，这才激起了一点高兴的反应。趁着这股劲儿，他又使他们对一种新式玩法产生了兴趣，这就是大家暂时放弃当海盗，改扮成印第安人，换换口味。他们一下子被这个主意吸引住了。于是，不久他们便脱得精赤，从头到脚抹了一道道的黑泥，就像几匹斑马——当然个个都是酋长——然后他们飞奔入林，去袭击一个英国佬的聚居点。    后来他们又分成三个敌对的部落，从埋伏处发出可怕的吼叫，冲出来相互袭击，杀死和剥掉头皮的人数以千计。这是一场血淋淋的战争，因此也是个痛快淋漓的日子。    临近吃晚饭时分，他们才回到宿营地集合，饥肠辘辘，但却十分快活；不过，又一个难题产生了——互相仇杀的印第安人如不事先讲和，是不能在一块友好进餐的，而讲和的前提必须要抽一袋烟。他们从没听说过还有别的讲和办法。这三个野蛮人中的两个几乎一致表示希望继续当海盗。大家终究想不出别的解决办法；所以他们只好装出一副愉悦神情，把烟斗要过来，按照传统的仪式轮流抽了一口。    说也奇怪，他们又很高兴自己变成野蛮人了，因为他们收获不小：他们发现自己已经可以抽抽烟，而不必找丢失的小刀了；现在他们已经不再被烟呛得难受了。他们可不会轻易放过这可喜的进步而裹足不前，不会。吃过晚饭，他们又小心地练习了一下，取得了不小的成功，因此，这天晚上他们过得喜气洋洋。他们对自己取得的这一成就非常自豪，非常满意。即使他们能把印第安人的六个部落通通剥掉头皮，或者把全身的皮都剥掉，也不会比这更畅快。就随他们在那儿抽烟、闲扯和天吹海聊吧，目前我们暂没什么事情麻烦他们了。
Chapter 17
BUT there was no hilarity in the little town that same tranquil Saturday afternoon. The Harpers, and Aunt Polly's family, were being put into mourning, with great grief and many tears. An unusual quiet possessed the village, although it was ordinarily quiet enough, in all conscience. The villagers conducted their concerns with an absent air, and talked little; but they sighed often. The Saturday holiday seemed a burden to the children. They had no heart in their sports, and gradually gave them up.
In the afternoon Becky Thatcher found herself moping about the deserted schoolhouse yard, and feeling very melancholy. But she found nothing there to comfort her. She soliloquized:
"Oh, if I only had a brass andiron-knob again! But I haven't got anything now to remember him by." And she choked back a little sob.
Presently she stopped, and said to herself:
"It was right here. Oh, if it was to do over again, I wouldn't say that -- I wouldn't say it for the whole world. But he's gone now; I'll never, never, never see him any more."
This thought broke her down, and she wandered away, with tears rolling down her cheeks. Then quite a group of boys and girls -- playmates of Tom's and Joe's -- came by, and stood looking over the paling fence and talking in reverent tones of how Tom did so-and-so the last time they saw him, and how Joe said this and that small trifle (pregnant with awful prophecy, as they could easily see now!) -- and each speaker pointed out the exact spot where the lost lads stood at the time, and then added something like "and I was a-standing just so -- just as I am now, and as if you was him -- I was as close as that -- and he smiled, just this way -- and then something seemed to go all over me, like -- awful, you know -- and I never thought what it meant, of course, but I can see now!"
Then there was a dispute about who saw the dead boys last in life, and many claimed that dismal distinction, and offered evidences, more or less tampered with by the witness; and when it was ultimately decided who DID see the departed last, and exchanged the last words with them, the lucky parties took upon themselves a sort of sacred importance, and were gaped at and envied by all the rest. One poor chap, who had no other grandeur to offer, said with tolerably manifest pride in the remembrance:
"Well, Tom Sawyer he licked me once."
But that bid for glory was a failure. Most of the boys could say that, and so that cheapened the distinction too much. The group loitered away, still recalling memories of the lost heroes, in awed voices.
When the Sunday-school hour was finished, the next morning, the bell began to toll, instead of ringing in the usual way. It was a very still Sabbath, and the mournful sound seemed in keeping with the musing hush that lay upon nature. The villagers began to gather, loitering a moment in the vestibule to converse in whispers about the sad event. But there was no whispering in the house; only the funereal rustling of dresses as the women gathered to their seats disturbed the silence there. None could remember when the little church had been so full before. There was finally a waiting pause, an expectant dumbness, and then Aunt Polly entered, followed by Sid and Mary, and they by the Harper family, all in deep black, and the whole congregation, the old minister as well, rose reverently and stood until the mourners were seated in the front pew. There was another communing silence, broken at intervals by muffled sobs, and then the minister spread his hands abroad and prayed. A moving hymn was sung, and the text followed: "I am the Resurrection and the Life."
As the service proceeded, the clergyman drew such pictures of the graces, the winning ways, and the rare promise of the lost lads that every soul there, thinking he recognized these pictures, felt a pang in remembering that he had persistently blinded himself to them always before, and had as persistently seen only faults and flaws in the poor boys. The minister related many a touching incident in the lives of the departed, too, which illustrated their sweet, generous natures, and the people could easily see, now, how noble and beautiful those episodes were, and remembered with grief that at the time they occurred they had seemed rank rascalities, well deserving of the cowhide. The congregation became more and more moved, as the pathetic tale went on, till at last the whole company broke down and joined the weeping mourners in a chorus of anguished sobs, the preacher himself giving way to his feelings, and crying in the pulpit.
There was a rustle in the gallery, which nobody noticed; a moment later the church door creaked; the minister raised his streaming eyes above his handkerchief, and stood transfixed! First one and then another pair of eyes followed the minister's, and then almost with one impulse the congregation rose and stared while the three dead boys came marching up the aisle, Tom in the lead, Joe next, and Huck, a ruin of drooping rags, sneaking sheepishly in the rear! They had been hid in the unused gallery listening to their own funeral sermon!
Aunt Polly, Mary, and the Harpers threw themselves upon their restored ones, smothered them with kisses and poured out thanksgivings, while poor Huck stood abashed and uncomfortable, not knowing exactly what to do or where to hide from so many unwelcoming eyes. He wavered, and started to slink away, but Tom seized him and said:
"Aunt Polly, it ain't fair. Somebody's got to be glad to see Huck."
"And so they shall. I'm glad to see him, poor motherless thing!" And the loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before.
Suddenly the minister shouted at the top of his voice: "Praise God from whom all blessings flow -- sing! -- and put your hearts in it!"
And they did. Old Hundred swelled up with a triumphant burst, and while it shook the rafters Tom Sawyer the Pirate looked around upon the envying juveniles about him and confessed in his heart that this was the proudest moment of his life.
As the "sold" congregation trooped out they said they would almost be willing to be made ridiculous again to hear Old Hundred sung like that once more.
Tom got more cuffs and kisses that day -- according to Aunt Polly's varying moods -- than he had earned before in a year; and he hardly knew which expressed the most gratefulness to God and affection for himself.  
第十七章　海盗们为自己送葬，教堂现真相  
    也就是在同一个星期六的下午，镇上虽然宁静，但人们的心情却很沉重。哈帕家和波莉姨妈家都沉浸在悲哀之中，哭声不断。说实话，镇上本来已经够宁静的了，现在静得更加异乎寻常。村里的人干活时都心不在焉，也很少说话，只是长吁短叹个不停。周六似乎也成了孩子们的负担。他们做游戏时，总也提不起精神，到后来干脆不玩了。    那天下午，贝基·撒切尔在空无一人的学校操场上，愁眉苦脸地踱来踱去，心里觉得很凄凉，但找不到什么可以安慰自己的东西，于是她一边步一边喃喃自语道：    “哦，我要是再能得到那只柴架上的铜把手就好了！现在我连一件纪念他的东西都没有。”    她强忍着泪水。过了一会，她停住脚步，自言自语道：    “就是在这儿。哦，要是他再给我一次的话，我决不会像上回那样固执了，无论如何也不会再像上回那样说话了。可是他现在已经去了，我将永远、永远再也见不到他了。”    想到这里，她再也支撑不住了。于是她茫然走开，泪水顺着脸颊往下流。后来，有一大群男孩和女孩——他们曾经是汤姆和乔的伙伴——走了过来，站在那里向栅栏那边看，用虔诚的语调讲述着汤姆曾经如何干过什么事情，以及他们最后一次见到汤姆的情形。还有乔怎样说了这样和那样的小事情。（现在他们一眼就看出，这一切都充满了可怕的预兆！）在场的人个个都能讲出失踪的伙伴当时所站的确切地点，然后又补上一句：“我当时就这么站着——就像现在这样，比如你是他——我俩就这么近——他笑了，就像这样——接着我觉得浑身不对劲——就像——很吓人，你知道——我当时根本不知道是怎么回事，可现在我全明白了。”    接着他们就谁最后看见那些失踪的孩子展开一场争论。许多孩子真是苦中作乐，争着抢头功，并且提出了一些证据，被证人添油加醋地说了一番。最后公布结果时，那些被认为是最后看到过死者并和他们讲了话的幸运者便摆出一副了不起的样子，其余的人则张着嘴望着他们，羡慕得不得了。有个可怜的家伙，他没有什么值得荣耀的事情可谈，于是就想起一件往事，便无不骄傲地说道：    “哦，汤姆·索亚揍过我一回。”    可是，这并没能让他获得大家的羡慕，因为大多数的孩子都可以这么说，所以他的这句话就不大值钱了。后来这群孩子继续聊着，用敬畏的口气追述几位死去的英雄的生平事迹。    第二天上午，主日学校下课以后，教堂的大钟一反往日的样子，发出的是报丧的声音。这个星期天，镇上显得十分宁静，报丧的钟声似乎与笼罩着大地的寂静很协调。村里的人开始聚集在一起，在走廊里逗留了一小会儿，低声谈论着这件惨案。可是教堂里除了女人们走向座位时衣服发出凄惨的沙沙声外却没有人窃窃私语。谁也记不起这个小小的教堂从前什么时候也像今天这样座无虚席。后来教堂里鸦雀无声，大家静心等候了一阵才见波莉姨妈走了进来，后面跟着希德和玛丽；过了一会哈帕一家也进来了，他们都穿着深黑色的衣服。这时全场起立，连年迈的牧师也不例外。大家都恭恭敬敬地站着一直等到刚进来的那些人在前排就座后这才坐下来。接着又是一阵默哀，间歇着传来一阵阵哽噎住的抽泣声。然后牧师摊开双手，做了祷告。人们唱了一首震撼人心的圣歌，之后又念了一段颂词：“我是生命，复活是我。”丧礼上，    牧师描述了死者的美德和他们讨人喜欢的行为，以及非凡的前途。在座的人个个都暗自承认他说得对，他们以前真是有眼无珠，居然对这些熟视无睹，反倒死盯着这些可怜孩子的过错和毛病不放，心里不免感到难过。牧师还讲述了这几个孩子生前的一些感人事迹，他们天真可爱，慷慨大方。人们现在一眼就看出他们那时的行为是多么地高尚，令人赞美。可当时这些却被认为是地道的流氓行为，人们恨不得用鞭子抽这些孩子。想到这一切，人们很难过。牧师越说越动情，在场的人也越听越受感动，都呜咽起来。牧师本人也控制不住自己的感情在布道台上哭起来。    教堂的长廊里响起一阵沙沙声，可是没有人听见。不久，教堂的门嘎吱一声开了，牧师拿开手绢，抬起泪汪汪的眼睛，站在那里呆住了！于是一双又一双的眼睛顺着牧师的视线看过去，接着全体到会者一下子都站起来，睁大眼睛看着死而复活的这三个孩子沿着过道大踏步走过来。走在前面的是汤姆，乔在中间，哈克殿后。他们刚才一直躲在那没人的长廊里，倾听着追悼他们的颂词哩！    波莉姨姨、玛丽，还有哈帕一家都一下子向这几个复活的孩子扑过去，把他们吻得透不过气来，同时倾吐了许多感恩戴德的话。而可怜的哈克却站在那里，窘迫不安，很不自在，不知道该如何是好，也不知道逃到哪里才能躲开这些不表示欢迎自己的眼光。他犹豫了一下，正打算溜走，可是汤姆抓住他，说道：    “波莉姨妈，这不公平，哈克也该受人欢迎才对。”“是的，说得有道理，我就欢迎他。他没有母亲真可怜！”    波莉姨妈的亲切关怀，反倒使他变得更加不自在。忽然牧师放开嗓音，高唱起来：“赞美上帝，保佑众生——    唱！——大家尽情地唱呀！”    大家果然热情地唱了起来。人们以饱满的热情，大声唱起了颂歌，歌声回荡在教堂上空。海盗汤姆·索亚向四周张望，发现周围的伙伴们都在羡慕他，心中暗自承认，这是他平生最得意的时刻。    当那些“受骗”的参加葬礼的人成群结对地走出教堂时，大家都说要是能像今天这样热情地唱颂歌，情愿再被捉弄一次。    那一天，汤姆不是挨耳光就是受亲吻，这全随波莉姨妈的心情变化而定。他从前一年所受的加起来也没有今天一天的多。他简直搞不清哪一种表示是对上帝的感激，哪一种是对他的爱。 
Chapter 18
THAT was Tom's great secret -- the scheme to return home with his brother pirates and attend their own funerals. They had paddled over to the Missouri shore on a log, at dusk on Saturday, landing five or six miles below the village; they had slept in the woods at the edge of the town till nearly daylight, and had then crept through back lanes and alleys and finished their sleep in the gallery of the church among a chaos of invalided benches.
At breakfast, Monday morning, Aunt Polly and Mary were very loving to Tom, and very attentive to his wants. There was an unusual amount of talk. In the course of it Aunt Polly said:
"Well, I don't say it wasn't a fine joke, Tom, to keep everybody suffering 'most a week so you boys had a good time, but it is a pity you could be so hard-hearted as to let me suffer so. If you could come over on a log to go to your funeral, you could have come over and give me a hint some way that you warn't dead, but only run off."
"Yes, you could have done that, Tom," said Mary; "and I believe you would if you had thought of it."
"Would you, Tom?" said Aunt Polly, her face lighting wistfully. "Say, now, would you, if you'd thought of it?"
"I -- well, I don't know. 'Twould 'a' spoiled everything."
"Tom, I hoped you loved me that much," said Aunt Polly, with a grieved tone that discomforted the boy. "It would have been something if you'd cared enough to think of it, even if you didn't do it."
"Now, auntie, that ain't any harm," pleaded Mary; "it's only Tom's giddy way -- he is always in such a rush that he never thinks of anything."
"More's the pity. Sid would have thought. And Sid would have come and done it, too. Tom, you'll look back, some day, when it's too late, and wish you'd cared a little more for me when it would have cost you so little."
"Now, auntie, you know I do care for you," said Tom.
"I'd know it better if you acted more like it."
"I wish now I'd thought," said Tom, with a repentant tone; "but I dreamt about you, anyway. That's something, ain't it?"
"It ain't much -- a cat does that much -- but it's better than nothing. What did you dream?"
"Why, Wednesday night I dreamt that you was sitting over there by the bed, and Sid was sitting by the woodbox, and Mary next to him."
"Well, so we did. So we always do. I'm glad your dreams could take even that much trouble about us."
"And I dreamt that Joe Harper's mother was here."
"Why, she was here! Did you dream any more?"
"Oh, lots. But it's so dim, now."
"Well, try to recollect -- can't you?"
"Somehow it seems to me that the wind -- the wind blowed the -- the --"
"Try harder, Tom! The wind did blow something. Come!"
Tom pressed his fingers on his forehead an anxious minute, and then said:
"I've got it now! I've got it now! It blowed the candle!"
"Mercy on us! Go on, Tom -- go on!"
"And it seems to me that you said, 'Why, I believe that that door --'"
"Go on, Tom!"
"Just let me study a moment -- just a moment. Oh, yes -- you said you believed the door was open."
"As I'm sitting here, I did! Didn't I, Mary! Go on!"
"And then -- and then -- well I won't be certain, but it seems like as if you made Sid go and -- and --"
"Well? Well? What did I make him do, Tom? What did I make him do?"
"You made him -- you -- Oh, you made him shut it."
"Well, for the land's sake! I never heard the beat of that in all my days! Don't tell me there ain't anything in dreams, any more. Sereny Harper shall know of this before I'm an hour older. I'd like to see her get around this with her rubbage 'bout superstition. Go on, Tom!"
"Oh, it's all getting just as bright as day, now. Next you said I warn't BAD, only mischeevous and harum-scarum, and not any more responsible than -- than -- I think it was a colt, or something."
"And so it was! Well, goodness gracious! Go on, Tom!"
"And then you began to cry."
"So I did. So I did. Not the first time, neither. And then --"
"Then Mrs. Harper she began to cry, and said Joe was just the same, and she wished she hadn't whipped him for taking cream when she'd throwed it out her own self --"
"Tom! The sperrit was upon you! You was a prophesying -- that's what you was doing! Land alive, go on, Tom!"
"Then Sid he said -- he said --"
"I don't think I said anything," said Sid.
"Yes you did, Sid," said Mary.
"Shut your heads and let Tom go on! What did he say, Tom?"
"He said -- I think he said he hoped I was better off where I was gone to, but if I'd been better sometimes --"
"There, d'you hear that! It was his very words!"
"And you shut him up sharp."
"I lay I did! There must 'a' been an angel there. There was an angel there, somewheres!"
"And Mrs. Harper told about Joe scaring her with a firecracker, and you told about Peter and the Painkiller --"
"Just as true as I live!"
"And then there was a whole lot of talk 'bout dragging the river for us, and 'bout having the funeral Sunday, and then you and old Miss Harper hugged and cried, and she went."
"It happened just so! It happened just so, as sure as I'm a-sitting in these very tracks. Tom, you couldn't told it more like if you'd 'a' seen it! And then what? Go on, Tom!"
"Then I thought you prayed for me -- and I could see you and hear every word you said. And you went to bed, and I was so sorry that I took and wrote on a piece of sycamore bark, 'We ain't dead -- we are only off being pirates,' and put it on the table by the candle; and then you looked so good, laying there asleep, that I thought I went and leaned over and kissed you on the lips."
"Did you, Tom, did you! I just forgive you everything for that!" And she seized the boy in a crushing embrace that made him feel like the guiltiest of villains.
"It was very kind, even though it was only a -- dream," Sid soliloquized just audibly.
"Shut up, Sid! A body does just the same in a dream as he'd do if he was awake. Here's a big Milum apple I've been saving for you, Tom, if you was ever found again -- now go 'long to school. I'm thankful to the good God and Father of us all I've got you back, that's long-suffering and merciful to them that believe on Him and keep His word, though goodness knows I'm unworthy of it, but if only the worthy ones got His blessings and had His hand to help them over the rough places, there's few enough would smile here or ever enter into His rest when the long night comes. Go 'long Sid, Mary, Tom -- take yourselves off -- you've hendered me long enough."
The children left for school, and the old lady to call on Mrs. Harper and vanquish her realism with Tom's marvellous dream. Sid had better judgment than to utter the thought that was in his mind as he left the house. It was this: "Pretty thin -- as long a dream as that, without any mistakes in it!"
What a hero Tom was become, now! He did not go skipping and prancing, but moved with a dignified swagger as became a pirate who felt that the public eye was on him. And indeed it was; he tried not to seem to see the looks or hear the remarks as he passed along, but they were food and drink to him. Smaller boys than himself flocked at his heels, as proud to be seen with him, and tolerated by him, as if he had been the drummer at the head of a procession or the elephant leading a menagerie into town. Boys of his own size pretended not to know he had been away at all; but they were consuming with envy, nevertheless. They would have given anything to have that swarthy suntanned skin of his, and his glittering notoriety; and Tom would not have parted with either for a circus.
At school the children made so much of him and of Joe, and delivered such eloquent admiration from their eyes, that the two heroes were not long in becoming insufferably "stuck-up." They began to tell their adventures to hungry listeners -- but they only began; it was not a thing likely to have an end, with imaginations like theirs to furnish material. And finally, when they got out their pipes and went serenely puffing around, the very summit of glory was reached.
Tom decided that he could be independent of Becky Thatcher now. Glory was sufficient. He would live for glory. Now that he was distinguished, maybe she would be wanting to "make up." Well, let her -- she should see that he could be as indifferent as some other people. Presently she arrived. Tom pretended not to see her. He moved away and joined a group of boys and girls and began to talk. Soon he observed that she was tripping gayly back and forth with flushed face and dancing eyes, pretending to be busy chasing schoolmates, and screaming with laughter when she made a capture; but he noticed that she always made her captures in his vicinity, and that she seemed to cast a conscious eye in his direction at such times, too. It gratified all the vicious vanity that was in him; and so, instead of winning him, it only "set him up" the more and made him the more diligent to avoid betraying that he knew she was about. Presently she gave over sky-larking, and moved irresolutely about, sighing once or twice and glancing furtively and wistfully toward Tom. Then she observed that now Tom was talking more particularly to Amy Lawrence than to any one else. She felt a sharp pang and grew disturbed and uneasy at once. She tried to go away, but her feet were treacherous, and carried her to the group instead. She said to a girl almost at Tom's elbow -- with sham vivacity:
"Why, Mary Austin! you bad girl, why didn't you come to Sunday-school?"
"I did come -- didn't you see me?"
"Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?"
"I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw you."
"Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic."
"Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?"
"My ma's going to let me have one."
"Oh, goody; I hope she'll let me come."
"Well, she will. The picnic's for me. She'll let anybody come that I want, and I want you."
"That's ever so nice. When is it going to be?"
"By and by. Maybe about vacation."
"Oh, won't it be fun! You going to have all the girls and boys?"
"Yes, every one that's friends to me -- or wants to be"; and she glanced ever so furtively at Tom, but he talked right along to Amy Lawrence about the terrible storm on the island, and how the lightning tore the great sycamore tree "all to flinders" while he was "standing within three feet of it."
"Oh, may I come?" said Grace Miller.
"Yes."
"And me?" said Sally Rogers.
"Yes."
"And me, too?" said Susy Harper. "And Joe?"
"Yes."
And so on, with clapping of joyful hands till all the group had begged for invitations but Tom and Amy. Then Tom turned coolly away, still talking, and took Amy with him. Becky's lips trembled and the tears came to her eyes; she hid these signs with a forced gayety and went on chattering, but the life had gone out of the picnic, now, and out of everything else; she got away as soon as she could and hid herself and had what her sex call "a good cry." Then she sat moody, with wounded pride, till the bell rang. She roused up, now, with a vindictive cast in her eye, and gave her plaited tails a shake and said she knew what she'd do.
At recess Tom continued his flirtation with Amy with jubilant self-satisfaction. And he kept drifting about to find Becky and lacerate her with the performance. At last he spied her, but there was a sudden falling of his mercury. She was sitting cosily on a little bench behind the schoolhouse looking at a picture-book with Alfred Temple -- and so absorbed were they, and their heads so close together over the book, that they did not seem to be conscious of anything in the world besides. Jealousy ran red-hot through Tom's veins. He began to hate himself for throwing away the chance Becky had offered for a reconciliation. He called himself a fool, and all the hard names he could think of. He wanted to cry with vexation. Amy chatted happily along, as they walked, for her heart was singing, but Tom's tongue had lost its function. He did not hear what Amy was saying, and whenever she paused expectantly he could only stammer an awkward assent, which was as often misplaced as otherwise. He kept drifting to the rear of the schoolhouse, again and again, to sear his eyeballs with the hateful spectacle there. He could not help it. And it maddened him to see, as he thought he saw, that Becky Thatcher never once suspected that he was even in the land of the living. But she did see, nevertheless; and she knew she was winning her fight, too, and was glad to see him suffer as she had suffered.
Amy's happy prattle became intolerable. Tom hinted at things he had to attend to; things that must be done; and time was fleeting. But in vain -- the girl chirped on. Tom thought, "Oh, hang her, ain't I ever going to get rid of her?" At last he must be attending to those things -- and she said artlessly that she would be "around" when school let out. And he hastened away, hating her for it.
"Any other boy!" Tom thought, grating his teeth. "Any boy in the whole town but that Saint Louis smarty that thinks he dresses so fine and is aristocracy! Oh, all right, I licked you the first day you ever saw this town, mister, and I'll lick you again! You just wait till I catch you out! I'll just take and --"
And he went through the motions of thrashing an imaginary boy -- pummelling the air, and kicking and gouging. "Oh, you do, do you? You holler 'nough, do you? Now, then, let that learn you!" And so the imaginary flogging was finished to his satisfaction.
Tom fled home at noon. His conscience could not endure any more of Amy's grateful happiness, and his jealousy could bear no more of the other distress. Becky resumed her picture inspections with Alfred, but as the minutes dragged along and no Tom came to suffer, her triumph began to cloud and she lost interest; gravity and absent-mindedness followed, and then melancholy; two or three times she pricked up her ear at a footstep, but it was a false hope; no Tom came. At last she grew entirely miserable and wished she hadn't carried it so far. When poor Alfred, seeing that he was losing her, he did not know how, kept exclaiming: "Oh, here's a jolly one! look at this!" she lost patience at last, and said, "Oh, don't bother me! I don't care for them!" and burst into tears, and got up and walked away.
Alfred dropped alongside and was going to try to comfort her, but she said:
"Go away and leave me alone, can't you! I hate you!"
So the boy halted, wondering what he could have done -- for she had said she would look at pictures all through the nooning – and she walked on, crying. Then Alfred went musing into the deserted schoolhouse. He was humiliated and angry. He easily guessed his way to the truth -- the girl had simply made a convenience of him to vent her spite upon Tom Sawyer. He was far from hating Tom the less when this thought occurred to him. He wished there was some way to get that boy into trouble without much risk to himself. Tom's spelling-book fell under his eye. Here was his opportunity. He gratefully opened to the lesson for the afternoon and poured ink upon the page.
Becky, glancing in at a window behind him at the moment, saw the act, and moved on, without discovering herself. She started homeward, now, intending to find Tom and tell him; Tom would be thankful and their troubles would be healed. Before she was half way home, however, she had changed her mind. The thought of Tom's treatment of her when she was talking about her picnic came scorching back and filled her with shame. She resolved to let him get whipped on the damaged spelling-book's account, and to hate him forever, into the bargain.   第十八章　汤姆托梦骗姨妈，贝基借故寻报复 
    这就是汤姆最大的秘密计划——和他的海盗帮兄弟们一同回家，出席自己的葬礼。星期六黄昏的时候，他们坐在一块大木头上，顺流而漂，漂到密苏里河的另一边，在离小镇下游五六英里的地方上了岸。他们在镇外的树林子里睡了一觉，醒来时，天已快亮。然后他们悄悄地穿过僻静的胡同和小巷，溜进教堂的长廊。那儿堆满了乱七八糟的破凳子。他们又接着睡，一觉睡到了大天亮。    星期一早晨吃早饭的时候，波莉姨妈和玛丽对汤姆非常亲近。他要什么都满足他，大家的话也比平常多得多。谈话中，波莉姨妈说：    “喂，汤姆，要我说你这个玩笑开得很好，你们几个为了开开心却让我们大家受了几乎一个星期的罪。你不该那么狠心，让我也跟着吃苦头。你既然能够坐在大木头上来参加自己的葬礼，那你为什么就不能给我点暗示，说明你是出走而不是死了呢？”    “是呀，汤姆，姨妈说得对，”玛丽接上说，“我想你要是想到这一点，你一定会那样做的。”    “你会不会，汤姆？”波莉姨妈问，脸上一副渴望的神情。    “你说呀，要是你想到了，你会不会那样做呢？”    “我——呃，我说不准，要是那样的话，会坏事的。”“汤姆，我原来以为你很把我放在心上。”波莉姨妈说，她那悲伤的语调使汤姆深感不安。“你以前要是还想到这一点，就算没办到，那也是很不错的了。”    “哦，姨妈，别这么想，那没什么关系，”玛丽向着汤姆对姨妈说，“汤姆就是这样子，毛手毛脚的，做事总是匆匆忙忙，从不考虑什么后果。”    “那就更不应该。要是换了希德，那就不一样了，他会来告诉我的。汤姆，有朝一日当你回想往事的时候，你会后悔的：后悔当初不该这样不把我放在心上。这事对你是无所谓。”    “噢，姨妈，你晓得我真地爱你的。”汤姆说。    “你要是不光这么说，而且还能做到，我就会更相信你了。”    “现在我希望当时真地那么想过，”汤姆后悔地说，“不过我在梦里梦见过你呀，这不也够可以的吗，对不对？”    “这算什么——连猫也会梦见我的——不过话说回来了，这总比没梦见过我的好。你梦见我什么了？”    “噢，是这样的，星期三夜里，我梦见你坐在那个床边，希德靠木箱坐着，玛丽离他不远。”    “没错，我们当时是那样坐的。我们常是这样坐法。我很高兴你在梦里也为我们这么操心。”    “我还梦见乔·哈帕的妈妈也在这里。”    “嗳呀，她是来过！还有呢？”    “噢，多着呢，不过现在记不大清楚了。”    “那么，尽量回想一下行不行？”    “我记得好像风——风吹灭了——吹灭了——”    “好好想一想，汤姆！风的确吹灭了什么东西，说呀！”    汤姆把手指放在脑门上，一副很着急的样子。他想了一会说：    “我想起来了！风吹灭了蜡烛！”    “我的天哪！太对了！接着说，汤姆——再接着说！”    “我记得好像你说了，嗐，我想那门……”    “往下说，汤姆！”    “让我稍微回想一下——别着急。哦，对了，你说你想门是开着的。”    “我当时就像现在这样坐在这儿，我确实说过！对吧，玛丽！汤姆往下说！”    “后来……后来……后来发生的事，我有点吃不准。不过我仿佛记得你让希德去……去……。”    “去哪儿？说呀？汤姆，我让他去干什么？他去干什么？”    “你让他……你……哦，你让他去关上门。”    “啊，我的天哪！我活了大半辈子都没听说有这样的怪事！现在我明白了梦不全是假的。我这就去跟赛伦尼·哈帕（乔的母亲）讲，让她来解释解释这个。她一贯不相信迷信，这回看她还有什么说的。再接着往下说，汤姆！”    “哦，现在全想起来了。后来，你说我不坏，不过是淘气罢了。有点浮躁，冒冒失失的。你还说我是个毛头孩子（我想你是这么说的），没一点坏心眼儿。”    “一字不差！哦，天哪！接着讲，汤姆！”    “接着你就哭了。”    “我是哭了。我哭了，那已经是常事了。那后来呢？”    “后来哈帕夫人也哭了起来。她说乔也是和我一样的孩子，她后悔不该为奶酪的事，用鞭子抽打他。其实是她自己把奶酪倒掉了——”    “汤姆，你真神了！你的梦就是预言！”    “后来希德他说——他说……”    “我记得我当时好像没说什么。”希德说。    “不，希德，你说了。”玛丽说。    “你俩住嘴，让汤姆往下说！他说什么了，汤姆？”    “他说——我觉得他是这样说的：他希望我在另一个世界里，过得更舒服些，不过要是我从前某些方面表现得更好些……”    “瞧，你们听见了吧！当时他正是这么说的！”    “还有，你让他闭嘴。”    “我的确这样讲了！这事一定有个高手在帮你的忙。一定有个高手在暗地里帮你的忙！”    “哈帕夫人还把乔放爆竹吓着她的事讲了一遍，你就讲了彼得和止痛药……”    “真是千真万确！”    “后来你们还谈论了很多事情，讲了到河里打捞我们，讲了星期日举行丧礼，后来你和哈帕夫人抱在一起哭了一场，最后她离开走了。”    “事情经过确实如此！确实如此，就像我现在坐在这里一样，一点也不差。汤姆，即使亲眼见过的人，说的也不过如此了！那么后来呢？继续说，汤姆！”    “我记得后来你为我做了祈祷——我能看见，还能听见你所说的每个字。你上床睡觉了，我感到非常难过，于是拿出一块梧桐树皮，在上面写道：‘我们没有死，只是去当海盗了。’还把它放在桌子上的蜡烛旁边；后来你躺在那儿睡着了，看上去没有什么异样。我走过去，弯下腰来，吻了你的嘴唇。”    “是吗，汤姆，是吗！为了这一点，我会原谅你一切过错的！”于是她一把搂住这个小家伙，这一搂反而使他感到自己就像一个罪恶深重的小混蛋。    “虽然这只是一个——梦，倒也不错。”希德自言自语，声音小得刚好能听见。    “闭上嘴，希德！一个人梦有所思，日有所为。汤姆，这是我特意为你留的大苹果，打算要是能找到你，就给你吃——现在去上学吧。你终于回来了，我感谢仁慈的圣父。凡是相信他，听他话的人，上帝一定会对他们大发慈悲。不过天知道我是不配的。不过要是只有配受他爱护的人才能得到他的保佑，由他帮助渡过灾难，那就没有几个人能在临死前，能从容微笑，或是到主那里去安息了。走吧，希德、玛丽，还有汤姆——快走吧——你们耽误了我很长时间。”    孩子们动身上学去了，老太太就去我哈帕太太，想以汤姆那个活生生的梦来说服哈帕太太，梦有时也能成真。希德离开家的时候，对汤姆所讲的心中已有了数。不过，他并没有说出来，那就是：“这不可信——那么长的一个梦，居然没有一点差错！”    瞧，汤姆现在可神气了，他成了英雄。他一改往日的蹦蹦跳跳，走路时，腰板挺直，俨然一副受人注目的海盗相。是的，他从人群中走过时，既不看他们一眼，也不理睬他们说什么，把他们全不当一回事，小家伙们成群结队跟在他身后，并以此为荣。汤姆也不介意，仿佛自己成了游行队伍中的鼓手或是进城表演的马戏团中的领头那样受人注目。与他同龄的伙伴们表面上装着根本不知道他曾走失过那回事，但心里却忌妒得要命。他们要是也能像这个鬼东西那样，皮肤被晒得黝黑，又如此受人仰目，那死也眠目，但就是拿马戏团来换，汤姆一样也不愿让给他们。    在学校里从孩子们羡慕的眼神里可以看出汤姆和乔简直被人给捧上了天。不久，这两位“英雄”就开始翘尾巴，别人只好强忍着。于是他俩就向那些如饥似渴的“听众”讲起了他们冒险的经历。可刚一开头，他们就不往下讲，因为他们富于想象力，不时添油加醋，你想故事能有结束的时候吗？到后来，他们拿出烟斗，不急不忙地抽着烟，四处踱着步。这时，他们的神气劲达得了登峰造极的地步。    汤姆横下一条心，没有贝基·撒切尔他也行。只要有荣耀就有一切，他愿为荣耀而活着。既然现在他出了名，或许她会要求重新和好。不过，那是她的事，她会发现他现在根本不在乎了。不久，她来了。汤姆装着没看见她，跑到另一群男女孩子们中间说起话来。他很快发现她脸通红，来回走个不停，四处张望，好像是在追逐同学们，追上一个就笑着大叫一声，乐乐呵呵的。可是他还注意到她总在他的附近抓人，每抓到一个，都好像有意向他这边瞟上一眼。汤姆那不可告人的虚荣心全得到了满足，这下他更觉得自己是个人物了，因此对她越是不动声色，视而不见。她不再嘻戏了，只是犹犹豫豫地走来走去。她叹了一口气，闷闷不乐地看着汤姆，见他只和艾美·劳伦斯一人讲话，不理睬别的人。她立即感到极度悲伤，变得烦躁不安。她想走开，可两脚不听使唤，身不由己地来到了同学们一边。她装着满不在乎的样子对离汤姆十分近的那个女孩说：    “哟，是玛丽·奥斯汀呀！你这个坏家伙，干吗没去主日学校？”    “我去了——你没见我去吗？”    “不错，没看见。你去了？那你坐在什么地方？”    “我一惯在彼得小姐那一班。不过，我当时倒看见你在那儿。”    “是吗？真有趣，我居然没看见你。我原想告诉你野餐的事情。”    “啊，太捧了。谁来操办呢？”    “我妈打算让我来。”    “噢，好极了，我希望她会让我参加。”    “嗯，她会的。野餐是为我举办的。我爱叫谁，她都愿意。我爱叫你来，她当然愿意喽。”“棒极了。什么时候办呀？”    “要不了多久，也许放假就办。”    “好，这太有意思了！你打算请所有的男女同学吗？”    “对，凡是我的朋友，我都请。还有想和我交朋友的人，我也请。”说完，她偷偷瞥了一眼汤姆，可是他正跟艾美·劳伦斯讲岛上那场可怕的暴风雨的故事：当时一道闪电划破长空，把那棵大梧桐树“劈成碎片”，而他自己站得离那棵大梧桐树还“不到三英尺远”。    “喂，我能参加吗？”格雷赛·米勒说。    “能。”    “还有我呐？”莎丽·罗杰问。    “你也能。”    “我也能吗？”苏赛·哈帕问道，“乔呢？”    “都能去。”    就这样，除汤姆和艾美以外，所有的孩子都高兴地拍着手，要求贝基请他们参加野餐。汤姆冷冰冰地转身带着艾美走了，边走边和她谈着。见到这情景，贝基气得嘴唇发抖，泪往上涌。她强装笑脸，不让别人看出有什么异样来，继续聊着。可是野餐的事现在失去了意，一切都黯然失色。她马上跑开，找了一个无人的地方，照她们的说法“痛哭了一场”。由于自尊心受到了伤害，她闷闷不乐地坐在那里，一直坐到上课铃响，这时，她站起身来，瞪大眼睛，一副复仇的样子，把辫子往后一甩说：有他好看的。    课间休息的时候，汤姆继续和艾美逗乐，一副得意洋洋、心满意足的样子。他走来窜去想让贝基看见，以此来激怒她，伤她的心。最后，他终于在教室后面找到她。可他却像泄了气的皮球似的，情绪一落千丈。原来，贝基正舒舒服服地坐在一条小板凳上和阿尔费雷德·邓波儿一起在看画书。他们看得聚精会神，头也凑得很近，仿佛世上只有他俩存在。嫉妒的火焰在汤姆身上燃烧起来。他开始憎恨自己，骂自己是个傻瓜，白白放弃了贝基给他言归于好的机会。凡是能骂自己的话，他都派上了用场。他又急又气，直想放声大哭一场。而艾美此时却很开心，边走边快快活活地聊着。汤姆一句也听不进去，只是默默无语地往前走。艾美有时停下来，等他答话，他很尴尬，答得总是前言不对后语，不管问他什么，回答都是是的，是的。他忍不住一次又一次地走到教室后面，看见那可恨的一幕，气得他眼球都要掉了出来。更让他发疯的是贝基·撒切尔根本就没有把他放在眼里，不知道世上还有他这个大活宝（他是这么想的）。实际上贝基已发现他来了，她知道这次较量中自己赢了，见现在轮到汤姆受罪，她十分高兴。    艾美兴高采烈地叽叽喳喳说个不停，汤姆感到无法忍受。他暗示自己有事要办，而且时间不等人，必须马上就去做；可那个姑娘根本没明白过来，还是照讲不停。汤姆想：“哎，该死的，怎么老是缠着我不放。”到后来他非走不可了，可她仍是糊里糊涂，还说什么她会来“等他”。于是汤姆只得匆匆地悻悻离去。    汤姆咬牙切齿地想：“要是城里别的孩子那也就算了，可偏碰上圣路易斯来的这个自以为聪明的花花公子。那又怎么样，你刚一踏上这块土地，我不就揍了你一顿吗？只要让我逮住，你还得挨揍，那我可就……”    于是他拳打脚踢，平空乱舞一通，仿佛正在打那个孩子，挖他的眼睛。“我揍你，我揍你，不叫求饶！我要让你记住这个教训。”这场想象的打斗以对方失败而告终，汤姆感到心满意足。    中午时分，汤姆溜回家。有两件事让他很头疼：一是艾美的欢乐，他受不了她的纠缠；二是教室后面的那一幕，嫉妒让他再也不能经受别的打击了。贝基继续和阿尔费雷德看画书，时间一分一秒地过去，她想看汤姆的笑话，可汤姆却没有来，她那得意的心里不免蒙上一层阴影，于是她不再沾沾自喜了，继之而来的是心情沉重。她不能集中思想，到后来又变得心情忧郁。可是希望总是落空，汤姆并没有来。最后她伤心极了，后悔自己把事情做过了头。那个可怜的阿尔弗雷德见她心不在焉就不停地大声说道：“喂，你看这一张真有趣！”    这回，她终于耐不住性子了，说：“哼，别烦我了！我不喜欢这些东西！”说完，她突然大哭起来，站起身扭头就走。    阿尔弗雷德跟在她身边想安慰她，可是她却说：    “滚开，别管我！我讨厌你！”    于是这孩子便止住了脚步，纳闷自己是不是做错了什么——因为事先说好了整个中午休息时，她都要和他一块儿看画书的——可是现在她却哭着走了。他苦思冥想来到了空荡荡的教室，感到受了羞辱，非常恼火。很快，他琢磨出了事情的缘由；原来他成了这个女孩子对汤姆·索亚发泄私愤的工具。想到这一点，他越发痛恨汤姆。他希望能找个办法既能让这家伙吃苦头又不连累自己。这时，汤姆的拼音课本跃入他的眼帘。报复的机会来了，他乐滋滋地把书翻到当天下午要学的那一课，然后把墨水泼在了上面。    阿尔弗雷德的这一举动被站在他身后窗户外面的贝基发现了，她马上不露声色地走开。她打算回家把这事告诉汤姆，他一定会感激她，然后尽释前嫌，重归于好。可到了半道上，她又改变了主意。一想起汤姆在她说野餐时的那副神气样，她心里阵阵灼热，感到无地自容。她下定决心，一来让汤姆因此受鞭笞；二来永远恨他。
Chapter 19
TOM arrived at home in a dreary mood, and the first thing his aunt said to him showed him that he had brought his sorrows to an unpromising market:
"Tom, I've a notion to skin you alive!"
"Auntie, what have I done?"
"Well, you've done enough. Here I go over to Sereny Harper, like an old softy, expecting I'm going to make her believe all that rubbage about that dream, when lo and behold you she'd found out from Joe that you was over here and heard all the talk we had that night. Tom, I don't know what is to become of a boy that will act like that. It makes me feel so bad to think you could let me go to Sereny Harper and make such a fool of myself and never say a word."
This was a new aspect of the thing. His smartness of the morning had seemed to Tom a good joke before, and very ingenious. It merely looked mean and shabby now. He hung his head and could not think of anything to say for a moment. Then he said:
"Auntie, I wish I hadn't done it -- but I didn't think."
"Oh, child, you never think. You never think of anything but your own selfishness. You could think to come all the way over here from Jackson's Island in the night to laugh at our troubles, and you could think to fool me with a lie about a dream; but you couldn't ever think to pity us and save us from sorrow."
"Auntie, I know now it was mean, but I didn't mean to be mean. I didn't, honest. And besides, I didn't come over here to laugh at you that night."
"What did you come for, then?"
"It was to tell you not to be uneasy about us, because we hadn't got drownded."
"Tom, Tom, I would be the thankfullest soul in this world if I could believe you ever had as good a thought as that, but you know you never did -- and I know it, Tom."
"Indeed and 'deed I did, auntie -- I wish I may never stir if I didn't."
"Oh, Tom, don't lie -- don't do it. It only makes things a hundred times worse."
"It ain't a lie, auntie; it's the truth. I wanted to keep you from grieving -- that was all that made me come."
"I'd give the whole world to believe that -- it would cover up a power of sins, Tom. I'd 'most be glad you'd run off and acted so bad. But it ain't reasonable; because, why didn't you tell me, child?"
"Why, you see, when you got to talking about the funeral, I just got all full of the idea of our coming and hiding in the church, and I couldn't somehow bear to spoil it. So I just put the bark back in my pocket and kept mum."
"What bark?"
"The bark I had wrote on to tell you we'd gone pirating. I wish, now, you'd waked up when I kissed you -- I do, honest."
The hard lines in his aunt's face relaxed and a sudden tenderness dawned in her eyes.
"Did you kiss me, Tom?"
"Why, yes, I did."
"Are you sure you did, Tom?"
"Why, yes, I did, auntie -- certain sure."
"What did you kiss me for, Tom?"
"Because I loved you so, and you laid there moaning and I was so sorry."
The words sounded like truth. The old lady could not hide a tremor in her voice when she said:
"Kiss me again, Tom! -- and be off with you to school, now, and don't bother me any more."
The moment he was gone, she ran to a closet and got out the ruin of a jacket which Tom had gone pirating in. Then she stopped, with it in her hand, and said to herself:
"No, I don't dare. Poor boy, I reckon he's lied about it -- but it's a blessed, blessed lie, there's such a comfort come from it. I hope the Lord -- I know the Lord will forgive him, because it was such goodheartedness in him to tell it. But I don't want to find out it's a lie. I won't look."
She put the jacket away, and stood by musing a minute. Twice she put out her hand to take the garment again, and twice she refrained. Once more she ventured, and this time she fortified herself with the thought: "It's a good lie -- it's a good lie -- I won't let it grieve me." So she sought the jacket pocket. A moment later she was reading Tom's piece of bark through flowing tears and saying: "I could forgive the boy, now, if he'd committed a million sins!"  
 第十九章　汤姆花言巧语，姨妈慈悲心肠
    汤姆闷闷不乐地回到家里。姨妈一见他就数落了他一通，他感到就是回家也不一定能减轻他的苦楚。    “汤姆呀，汤姆，我想活剥了你！”    “姨妈，我怎么了？”    “瞧，你作得够呛。都是因为你，我呆头呆脑地跑去找赛伦尼·哈帕，像个老傻瓜似的，指望能让她相信你编的那个鬼梦。可是你瞧，她早就从乔那里了解到那天晚上你回过家，听见了我们所说的一切。汤姆，我不知道像你这样的孩子将来会怎么样。都是因为你，我才到赛伦尼·哈帕那儿去，出尽了洋相。一想到这，我就很伤心。”    汤姆没想到事情会闹到这种地步。他本以为早上耍的小聪明只是玩笑，很有独创性，可现在看来那既卑鄙又可耻。他先是垂下头，无言以对，然后开口说：    “姨妈，我希望那不是我干的，不过我没想到……”    “是的，孩子，你从来不动脑筋，只想着自己。你能想到夜里从杰克逊岛那么大老远地跑来幸灾乐祸；你能想到编梦撒谎来糊弄我，可你就想不到来告诉我们你还活着并没有死。    你知道我们当时是多么伤心吗？”    “姨妈，我现在知道了，那样做太卑鄙。可是我不是存心要卑鄙的，真的，我不是存心的。还有，那天夜里我到这里来不是要来看笑话的。”    “那么，你到这里来干什么呢？”    “是来告诉你们别为我操心，因为我们并没有淹死。”    “汤姆啊，汤姆，我要是能相信你真有这么好的心肠，还替别人着想，那我可就谢天谢地啰！不过，你心里明白你是个什么样的人，这我也明白，汤姆。”    “姨妈，我可是千真万确这么打算的。我虽然扰了你，但我要不是这么打算的，我甘愿蹲大牢。”    “哦，得了吧，汤姆，不要撒谎——不要撒谎，否则事情更加糟糕，越发不可收拾。”    “我没撒谎，姨妈，我说的全是真的。我是要来让你别伤心的——我来就是为了这个。”    “汤姆，我真愿意信你的话，这样可以一肥遮百丑。你出走，捉弄我们那我反倒很高兴。可是这听起来不对劲，如果真像你所说的那样，孩子，那你为什么不先告诉我呢？”    “哎，你瞧，我听你说要给我们举行葬礼，我满心都想着要跑到教堂里躲起来，我舍不得不这么干。所以，我把树皮又放到口袋里，没有出来说。”    “什么树皮？”    “上面写着我们去当海盗的那块树皮。唉，我当时吻你的时候，你要是醒了就好了。真的，我真是这样希望的。”    姨妈绷紧的脸一下子松开了，她眼里突然闪现出慈祥的目光。    “你吻了我，汤姆？”    “是啊，我吻了。”    “你敢肯定，汤姆？”    “那还用说，我吻了，姨妈，百分之百的肯定。”    “那你为什么要吻我，汤姆？”    “因为我很爱你，当时你躺在那里哭泣，我十分难过。”    汤姆说的像是真的。老太太再说话的时候已掩饰不住激动的心情，声音颤抖地说：    “汤姆，再吻我一下！现在你可以去上学了，不要再来烦我了。”    汤姆刚一走，她就跑到橱子那里拿出汤姆当“海盗”时穿的那件破夹克，站在那儿自言自语道：    “不，我不敢看。可怜的孩子，我猜他说的是谎话——不过，这是个十足善意的谎话，令人宽慰。我希望上帝——我知道上帝一准会原谅他，因为他心眼好，才撒这样的谎。我情愿这不是谎言。我不想看。”    她放下夹克站在那里想了一会。她两次伸手想再去拿那衣服，两次又把手缩了回来。最后，她坚定了决心再次伸出手去，心里想着：“这谎撒得好，我喜欢这样的谎话，别让它坏了我的美事。”于是她翻了夹克衫上的口袋，随即她看见了那块树皮上的字，于是她老泪纵横，边流泪边说：“就算这孩子错了，哪怕是大错特错，我现在也能原谅他了。”
Chapter 20
THERE was something about Aunt Polly's manner, when she kissed Tom, that swept away his low spirits and made him lighthearted and happy again. He started to school and had the luck of coming upon Becky Thatcher at the head of Meadow Lane. His mood always determined his manner. Without a moment's hesitation he ran to her and said:
"I acted mighty mean to-day, Becky, and I'm so sorry. I won't ever, ever do that way again, as long as ever I live -- please make up, won't you?"
The girl stopped and looked him scornfully in the face:
"I'll thank you to keep yourself to yourself, Mr. Thomas Sawyer. I'll never speak to you again."
She tossed her head and passed on. Tom was so stunned that he had not even presence of mind enough to say "Who cares, Miss Smarty?" until the right time to say it had gone by. So he said nothing. But he was in a fine rage, nevertheless. He moped into the schoolyard wishing she were a boy, and imagining how he would trounce her if she were. He presently encountered her and delivered a stinging remark as he passed. She hurled one in return, and the angry breach was complete. It seemed to Becky, in her hot resentment, that she could hardly wait for school to "take in," she was so impatient to see Tom flogged for the injured spelling-book. If she had had any lingering notion of exposing Alfred Temple, Tom's offensive fling had driven it entirely away.
Poor girl, she did not know how fast she was nearing trouble herself. The master, Mr. Dobbins, had reached middle age with an unsatisfied ambition. The darling of his desires was, to be a doctor, but poverty had decreed that he should be nothing higher than a village schoolmaster. Every day he took a mysterious book out of his desk and absorbed himself in it at times when no classes were reciting. He kept that book under lock and key. There was not an urchin in school but was perishing to have a glimpse of it, but the chance never came. Every boy and girl had a theory about the nature of that book; but no two theories were alike, and there was no way of getting at the facts in the case. Now, as Becky was passing by the desk, which stood near the door, she noticed that the key was in the lock! It was a precious moment. She glanced around; found herself alone, and the next instant she had the book in her hands. The title-page -- Professor Somebody's Anatomy -- carried no information to her mind; so she began to turn the leaves. She came at once upon a handsomely engraved and colored frontispiece -- a human figure, stark naked. At that moment a shadow fell on the page and Tom Sawyer stepped in at the door and caught a glimpse of the picture. Becky snatched at the book to close it, and had the hard luck to tear the pictured page half down the middle. She thrust the volume into the desk, turned the key, and burst out crying with shame and vexation.
"Tom Sawyer, you are just as mean as you can be, to sneak up on a person and look at what they're looking at."
"How could I know you was looking at anything?"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Tom Sawyer; you know you're going to tell on me, and oh, what shall I do, what shall I do! I'll be whipped, and I never was whipped in school."
Then she stamped her little foot and said:
"Be so mean if you want to! I know something that's going to happen. You just wait and you'll see! Hateful, hateful, hateful!" -- and she flung out of the house with a new explosion of crying.
Tom stood still, rather flustered by this onslaught. Presently he said to himself:
"What a curious kind of a fool a girl is! Never been licked in school! Shucks! What's a licking! That's just like a girl -- they're so thin-skinned and chicken-hearted. Well, of course I ain't going to tell old Dobbins on this little fool, because there's other ways of getting even on her, that ain't so mean; but what of it? Old Dobbins will ask who it was tore his book. Nobody'll answer. Then he'll do just the way he always does -- ask first one and then t'other, and when he comes to the right girl he'll know it, without any telling. Girls' faces always tell on them. They ain't got any backbone. She'll get licked. Well, it's a kind of a tight place for Becky Thatcher, because there ain't any way out of it." Tom conned the thing a moment longer, and then added: "All right, though; she'd like to see me in just such a fix -- let her sweat it out!"
Tom joined the mob of skylarking scholars outside. In a few moments the master arrived and school "took in." Tom did not feel a strong interest in his studies. Every time he stole a glance at the girls' side of the room Becky's face troubled him. Considering all things, he did not want to pity her, and yet it was all he could do to help it. He could get up no exultation that was really worthy the name. Presently the spelling-book discovery was made, and Tom's mind was entirely full of his own matters for a while after that. Becky roused up from her lethargy of distress and showed good interest in the proceedings. She did not expect that Tom could get out of his trouble by denying that he spilt the ink on the book himself; and she was right. The denial only seemed to make the thing worse for Tom. Becky supposed she would be glad of that, and she tried to believe she was glad of it, but she found she was not certain. When the worst came to the worst, she had an impulse to get up and tell on Alfred Temple, but she made an effort and forced herself to keep still -- because, said she to herself, "he'll tell about me tearing the picture sure. I wouldn't say a word, not to save his life!"
Tom took his whipping and went back to his seat not at all broken-hearted, for he thought it was possible that he had unknowingly upset the ink on the spelling-book himself, in some skylarking bout -- he had denied it for form's sake and because it was custom, and had stuck to the denial from principle.
A whole hour drifted by, the master sat nodding in his throne, the air was drowsy with the hum of study. By and by, Mr. Dobbins straightened himself up, yawned, then unlocked his desk, and reached for his book, but seemed undecided whether to take it out or leave it. Most of the pupils glanced up languidly, but there were two among them that watched his movements with intent eyes. Mr. Dobbins fingered his book absently for a while, then took it out and settled himself in his chair to read! Tom shot a glance at Becky. He had seen a hunted and helpless rabbit look as she did, with a gun levelled at its head. Instantly he forgot his quarrel with her. Quick -- something must be done! done in a flash, too! But the very imminence of the emergency paralyzed his invention. Good! -- he had an inspiration! He would run and snatch the book, spring through the door and fly. But his resolution shook for one little instant, and the chance was lost -- the master opened the volume. If Tom only had the wasted opportunity back again! Too late. There was no help for Becky now, he said. The next moment the master faced the school. Every eye sank under his gaze. There was that in it which smote even the innocent with fear. There was silence while one might count ten -- the master was gathering his wrath. Then he spoke: "Who tore this book?"
There was not a sound. One could have heard a pin drop. The stillness continued; the master searched face after face for signs of guilt.
"Benjamin Rogers, did you tear this book?"
A denial. Another pause.
"Joseph Harper, did you?"
Another denial. Tom's uneasiness grew more and more intense under the slow torture of these proceedings. The master scanned the ranks of boys -- considered a while, then turned to the girls:
"Amy Lawrence?"
A shake of the head.
"Gracie Miller?"
The same sign.
"Susan Harper, did you do this?"
Another negative. The next girl was Becky Thatcher. Tom was trembling from head to foot with excitement and a sense of the hopelessness of the situation.
"Rebecca Thatcher" [Tom glanced at her face -- it was white with terror] -- "did you tear -- no, look me in the face" [her hands rose in appeal] -- "did you tear this book?"
A thought shot like lightning through Tom's brain. He sprang to his feet and shouted -- "I done it!"
The school stared in perplexity at this incredible folly. Tom stood a moment, to gather his dismembered faculties; and when he stepped forward to go to his punishment the surprise, the gratitude, the adoration that shone upon him out of poor Becky's eyes seemed pay enough for a hundred floggings. Inspired by the splendor of his own act, he took without an outcry the most merciless flaying that even Mr. Dobbins had ever administered; and also received with indifference the added cruelty of a command to remain two hours after school should be dismissed -- for he knew who would wait for him outside till his captivity was done, and not count the tedious time as loss, either.
Tom went to bed that night planning vengeance against Alfred Temple; for with shame and repentance Becky had told him all, not forgetting her own treachery; but even the longing for vengeance had to give way, soon, to pleasanter musings, and he fell asleep at last with Becky's latest words lingering dreamily in his ear -- 
"Tom, how could you be so noble!"  
第二十章　心连心，汤姆代人受过  
    波莉姨妈吻汤姆的时候，态度有所变化，所以汤姆马上感到振作起来，心情轻松愉快。他上学去了。半路上在草坪巷口，他有幸碰上了贝基·撒切尔，他现在情绪好了，所以态度也来了个一百八十度大拐弯。于是他毫不犹豫地跑上前去说：    “贝基，我很抱歉，今天那样做实在对不起人。你放心，就是死了，我也不会再那样了。我们和好吧！”    贝基停下脚步，一副鄙视的样子盯着他。    “托马斯·索亚先生，你自己好自为之吧，我这先谢谢你了。我不会再跟你讲话的。”    说完，她昂起头走了。汤姆一下子被说懵了，等他转过神来要反驳一声“去你的吧，自以为是小姐”时，为时已晚。他虽然没说什么，却窝了一肚子的火。他没精打采地走进校园，心里想贝基要是个男孩子，他非得很很地揍她一顿不可。两人在随后的相遇中，汤姆说了句刺耳的话就走了，贝基也回敬了一句，这一下两人算是彻底地决裂了。盛怒之下，贝基想起了汤姆书上的墨水，她好像急不可耐，盼望着汤姆早一点受到惩罚。她本来还有点犹豫不决，说不定还想要揭发那是阿尔弗雷德·邓波尔干的坏事，可汤姆那句刺耳的话一下子打消了贝基的这个念头。    真是个可怜的姑娘，她就要大祸临头，自身难保了却一无所知。他们的老师，杜宾斯先生，虽然已到而立之年却心愿未了。他最热衷于当医生，可是贫穷却注定了他当不了别的美差，只能做一名乡村教师。他天天从讲台里拿出一本神秘的书，乘没课要讲的时候就潜心研读。平常，他总是小心翼翼地把那本书锁好。学校里那些调皮的家伙没有一个不想看下那本神秘的书，那怕瞟一眼也好，可总没有机会。至于那本书的内容，孩子们七嘴八舌，各抒己见，但都无法得到证实。讲台离门不远，贝基从旁边走过时恰好看到钥匙还在锁孔上晃悠。这可是看一上眼的好机会，千载难逢。她环顾回周，发现没有别的人在场，于是马上拿起那本书，只见扉页上写着“无名式教授解剖学”几个字。她没看出什么名堂来，于是就继续往下翻。刚一打开下一页，一张精制的彩色裸体图立即映入眼帘。与此同时，汤姆·索亚从门口进来，一眼瞥见了那张图。贝基一把抓起书想把它合上，可是不幸拦腰把那张图撕了一半。她马上把书扔进抽屉，锁上锁，又羞又恼地大哭起来。    “汤姆·索亚，你真卑鄙，偷看别人，还偷看人家正在看的东西。”    “我怎么知道你在看什么东西呢？”    “汤姆·索亚，你应该感到害臊。你会告发我的，这下我该怎么办才好呢？我要挨鞭笞了，我可从没挨过鞭笞呀！”    接着她跺着小脚说：    “你想耍卑鄙，那就随你的便！不过，你可要出事了。你等着瞧吧！可恶，可恶，真可恶！”接着，她一顿大哭，冲出了教室。    汤姆被贝基劈头盖脸地说了一通，弄得他丈二和尚摸不着头脑，他站在那里不知所措。随后，他自言自语地说：    “女孩子真是傻得出奇。说什么从来没挨过鞭子打！呸！哪有这回事！挨打算不了什么！女孩子就是这样——脸皮薄，胆小如鼠。不过，我当然不会把这事向杜宾斯老头讲。要想和她算帐，方法有的是，用不着干这种告密的勾当。可那又怎么样呢？杜宾斯老头照样会查出来是谁干的。他问下书是谁撕的，没人答应。于是他会接照老习惯挨个地问，等问到这个女孩子，他就全明白了。女孩子总是沉不住气，表情总能说明问题。她们意志薄弱，这一回她要挨揍了。贝基呀，贝基，你这一回在劫难逃。”汤姆又仔细琢磨了一会，然后想：“得，就这样吧，你不是想看我的笑话吗，那你就傻等着瞧吧，    有你好受的。”    汤姆跑到外面和那群嬉戏的同学们玩了不一会，老师就来上课了。汤姆并不十分想学习。他只要朝女生的那边偷看上一眼，贝基的神情就会令他不安。他左思右想，就是不想同情她，但却愿意起点作用。他一点都激动不起来。汤姆很快发现了拼音课本上的墨迹，于是有一段时间，他一直不能自拔，老是想着自己的事，显得郁郁不欢。贝基这下来了劲头，对事态的发展表现出了强烈的兴趣。她想汤姆不承认是自己弄脏了书，这也不能开脱他，她的预料果然不错。结果汤姆反倒把事情给弄糟了。贝基想她会为此而感到确实高兴，但却吃不准。后来眼看着汤姆情形不妙时，她真想一古脑地站出来揭发那墨水是阿尔弗雷德·邓波尔泼的。可她又竭力控制着，强迫自己保待沉默，因为她心里想：“他会告发我，把我撕老师书的事说出去。我现在最好什么也别说，不管他的死活。”    汤姆挨了鞭笞，回到座位上，但一点也不伤心。他想在和同学们的打闹中，他有可能不知不觉地把墨水瓶碰翻，弄脏自己的书。他否认是自己干的，一来是为了走过场；二来也是惯例；另外死也不承认自己有错，那是为了坚持原则。    一个小时过去了，老师坐在他的座位上打盹，教室里一片嗡嗡的读书声令人困乏。渐渐地，杜宾斯先生挺直身子，打着哈欠，然后打开抽屉的锁，可手伸出半截又停下来，犹豫不决。大多数学生都漫不经心地抬起头看了一眼，但其中有两个人特别关注老师的一举一动。杜宾斯先生把手伸进抽屉随便地摸了一会就拿出书，身体往椅子一靠看起来。汤姆瞥了贝基一眼。她就像一只被猎人追捕的兔子，当猎枪瞄准它的头部时，一副绝望无救的可怜相，他立刻忘掉了他们之间的争吵。得采取行动，马上就干，越快越好。常言说得好，急中生智，可汤姆这回却束手无策，对，就这么办。他突然来了灵感：他要冲上去，一把从老师手里抢过书，夺门而逃。可是他一走神，就这么稍一犹豫的时候，老师翻开了书。汤姆坐失了良机，他十分后悔。这下完了，干什么也来不及了，想帮的忙也帮不上了。老师打开书后马上面朝大家。见老师盯着他们，大家都低下了头，就连没有犯错误的同学也都吓得不得了。大约有十秒钟，教室里一片寂静。老师的气是越来越大，他终于开了腔：    “这书是谁撕的？”    教室里鸦雀无声，静的连根针掉到地上都能听见。老师见无人应答，就挨个检查，看到底是谁撕了书。    “本杰明·罗杰斯，书是你撕的吗？”    老师得到的是否定，他停了一会问道：    “约瑟夫·哈帕，是你干的？”    约瑟夫否认是他干的。老师不急不忙地问了这个又问那个。汤姆越来越紧张，显得烦躁不安。老师问完男生，稍加思索就转向女生。    “艾美·劳伦斯是你吗？”    她同样也摇了摇头。    “苏珊·哈帕，是你干的吗？”    又是一个否认。下一个就该问到贝基·撒切尔了。汤姆十分紧张，他意识到情况不妙，吓得他从头到脚全身发抖。“瑞贝卡·撒切尔”（贝基的学名），”（汤姆向她脸上瞟了一眼，见她吓得脸色苍白）——“是你撕……不，看着我的眼睛。”（她承认地举起手来）——“是你撕坏了这本书吗？”    这时，汤姆的脑海里雷电般闪出一个念头，他猛然起身，大声说道：“是我干的！”全班同学迷惑不解地盯着汤姆，觉得他行为愚蠢，令人不可思议。汤姆站了一会好像是在镇定自己，然后走上前去接受惩罚。汤姆发现那个可怜的姑娘贝基眼里先是流露出吃惊，然后是感激，最后是敬慕之情，他觉得为此就是挨上一百鞭也是值得的。汤姆也为自己的义举感到脸上有光，因此在遭受杜宾斯先生有史以来最严酷的鞭笞时，他哼都没哼一声，另外放学后，他还得被罚站两小时。对这一残忍的做法，他也不在乎，因为他心里有数，外面会有个人心甘情愿地一直在等上他两个小时。    当天晚上，汤姆临上床睡觉前合计着如何报复阿尔弗雷德·邓波尔。贝基把自己的背叛以及泼墨水的事情全盘托出了。可是不久，汤姆的思绪转到一些美滋滋的事情上。想着想着，汤姆耳边朦朦胧胧地响起了贝基刚才说过的一句话：“汤姆，你思想怎么会这样高尚的呀！”就这样，他终于进入了梦乡。
Chapter 21
VACATION was approaching. The schoolmaster, always severe, grew severer and more exacting than ever, for he wanted the school to make a good showing on "Examination" day. His rod and his ferule were seldom idle now -- at least among the smaller pupils. Only the biggest boys, and young ladies of eighteen and twenty, escaped lashing. Mr. Dobbins' lashings were very vigorous ones, too; for although he carried, under his wig, a perfectly bald and shiny head, he had only reached middle age, and there was no sign of feebleness in his muscle. As the great day approached, all the tyranny that was in him came to the surface; he seemed to take a vindictive pleasure in punishing the least shortcomings. The consequence was, that the smaller boys spent their days in terror and suffering and their nights in plotting revenge. They threw away no opportunity to do the master a mischief. But he kept ahead all the time. The retribution that followed every vengeful success was so sweeping and majestic that the boys always retired from the field badly worsted. At last they conspired together and hit upon a plan that promised a dazzling victory. They swore in the sign-painter's boy, told him the scheme, and asked his help. He had his own reasons for being delighted, for the master boarded in his father's family and had given the boy ample cause to hate him. The master's wife would go on a visit to the country in a few days, and there would be nothing to interfere with the plan; the master always prepared himself for great occasions by getting pretty well fuddled, and the sign-painter's boy said that when the dominie had reached the proper condition on Examination Evening he would "manage the thing" while he napped in his chair; then he would have him awakened at the right time and hurried away to school.
In the fulness of time the interesting occasion arrived. At eight in the evening the schoolhouse was brilliantly lighted, and adorned with wreaths and festoons of foliage and flowers. The master sat throned in his great chair upon a raised platform, with his blackboard behind him. He was looking tolerably mellow. Three rows of benches on each side and six rows in front of him were occupied by the dignitaries of the town and by the parents of the pupils. To his left, back of the rows of citizens, was a spacious temporary platform upon which were seated the scholars who were to take part in the exercises of the evening; rows of small boys, washed and dressed to an intolerable state of discomfort; rows of gawky big boys; snowbanks of girls and young ladies clad in lawn and muslin and conspicuously conscious of their bare arms, their grandmothers' ancient trinkets, their bits of pink and blue ribbon and the flowers in their hair. All the rest of the house was filled with non-participating scholars.
The exercises began. A very little boy stood up and sheepishly recited, "You'd scarce expect one of my age to speak in public on the stage," etc. -- accompanying himself with the painfully exact and spasmodic gestures which a machine might have used -- supposing the machine to be a trifle out of order. But he got through safely, though cruelly scared, and got a fine round of applause when he made his manufactured bow and retired.
A little shamefaced girl lisped, "Mary had a little lamb," etc., performed a compassion-inspiring curtsy, got her meed of applause, and sat down flushed and happy.
Tom Sawyer stepped forward with conceited confidence and soared into the unquenchable and indestructible "Give me liberty or give me death" speech, with fine fury and frantic gesticulation, and broke down in the middle of it. A ghastly stage-fright seized him, his legs quaked under him and he was like to choke. True, he had the manifest sympathy of the house but he had the house's silence, too, which was even worse than its sympathy. The master frowned, and this completed the disaster. Tom struggled awhile and then retired, utterly defeated. There was a weak attempt at applause, but it died early.
"The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck" followed; also "The Assyrian Came Down," and other declamatory gems. Then there were reading exercises, and a spelling fight. The meagre Latin class recited with honor. The prime feature of the evening was in order, now -- original "compositions" by the young ladies. Each in her turn stepped forward to the edge of the platform, cleared her throat, held up her manuscript (tied with dainty ribbon), and proceeded to read, with labored attention to "expression" and punctuation. The themes were the same that had been illuminated upon similar occasions by their mothers before them, their grandmothers, and doubtless all their ancestors in the female line clear back to the Crusades. "Friendship" was one; "Memories of Other Days"; "Religion in History"; "Dream Land"; "The Advantages of Culture"; "Forms of Political Government Compared and Contrasted"; "Melancholy"; "Filial Love"; "Heart Longings," etc., etc.
A prevalent feature in these compositions was a nursed and petted melancholy; another was a wasteful and opulent gush of "fine language"; another was a tendency to lug in by the ears particularly prized words and phrases until they were worn entirely out; and a peculiarity that conspicuously marked and marred them was the inveterate and intolerable sermon that wagged its crippled tail at the end of each and every one of them. No matter what the subject might be, a brain-racking effort was made to squirm it into some aspect or other that the moral and religious mind could contemplate with edification. The glaring insincerity of these sermons was not sufficient to compass the banishment of the fashion from the schools, and it is not sufficient to-day; it never will be sufficient while the world stands, perhaps. There is no school in all our land where the young ladies do not feel obliged to close their compositions with a sermon; and you will find that the sermon of the most frivolous and the least religious girl in the school is always the longest and the most relentlessly pious. But enough of this. Homely truth is unpalatable.
Let us return to the "Examination." The first composition that was read was one entitled "Is this, then, Life?" Perhaps the reader can endure an extract from it:
"In the common walks of life, with what delightful emotions does the youthful mind look forward to some anticipated scene of festivity! Imagination is busy sketching rose-tinted pictures of joy. In fancy, the voluptuous votary of fashion sees herself amid the festive throng, 'the observed of all observers.' Her graceful form, arrayed in snowy robes, is whirling through the mazes of the joyous dance; her eye is brightest, her step is lightest in the gay assembly.
"In such delicious fancies time quickly glides by, and the welcome hour arrives for her entrance into the Elysian world, of which she has had such bright dreams. How fairy-like does everything appear to her enchanted vision! Each new scene is more charming than the last. But after a while she finds that beneath this goodly exterior, all is vanity, the flattery which once charmed her soul, now grates harshly upon her ear; the ball-room has lost its charms; and with wasted health and imbittered heart, she turns away with the conviction that earthly pleasures cannot satisfy the longings of the soul!"
And so forth and so on. There was a buzz of gratification from time to time during the reading, accompanied by whispered ejaculations of "How sweet!" "How eloquent!" "So true!" etc., and after the thing had closed with a peculiarly afflicting sermon the applause was enthusiastic.
Then arose a slim, melancholy girl, whose face had the "interesting" paleness that comes of pills and indigestion, and read a "poem." Two stanzas of it will do:
"A MISSOURI MAIDEN'S FAREWELL TO ALABAMA
"Alabama, good-bye! I love thee well! But yet for a while do I leave thee now! Sad, yes, sad thoughts of thee my heart doth swell, And burning recollections throng my brow! For I have wandered through thy flowery woods; Have roamed and read near Tallapoosa's stream; Have listened to Tallassee's warring floods, And wooed on Coosa's side Aurora's beam.
"Yet shame I not to bear an o'er-full heart, Nor blush to turn behind my tearful eyes; 'Tis from no stranger land I now must part, 'Tis to no strangers left I yield these sighs. Welcome and home were mine within this State, Whose vales I leave -- whose spires fade fast from me And cold must be mine eyes, and heart, and tête, When, dear Alabama! they turn cold on thee!"
There were very few there who knew what "tête" meant, but the poem was very satisfactory, nevertheless.
Next appeared a dark-complexioned, black-eyed, black-haired young lady, who paused an impressive moment, assumed a tragic expression, and began to read in a measured, solemn tone:
"A VISION
"Dark and tempestuous was night. Around the throne on high not a single star quivered; but the deep intonations of the heavy thunder constantly vibrated upon the ear; whilst the terrific lightning revelled in angry mood through the cloudy chambers of heaven, seeming to scorn the power exerted over its terror by the illustrious Franklin! Even the boisterous winds unanimously came forth from their mystic homes, and blustered about as if to enhance by their aid the wildness of the scene.
"At such a time,so dark,so dreary, for human sympathy my very spirit sighed; but instead thereof,
"'My dearest friend, my counsellor, my comforter and guide My joy in grief, my second bliss in joy,' came to my side. 
She moved like one of those bright beings pictured in the sunny walks of fancy's Eden by the romantic and young, a queen of beauty unadorned save by her own transcendent loveliness. So soft was her step, it failed to make even a sound, and but for the magical thrill imparted by her genial touch, as other unobtrusive beauties, she would have glided away un-perceived -- unsought. A strange sadness rested upon her features, like icy tears upon the robe of December, as she pointed to the contending elements without, and bade me contemplate the two beings presented."
This nightmare occupied some ten pages of manuscript and wound up with a sermon so destructive of all hope to non-Presbyterians that it took the first prize. This composition was considered to be the very finest effort of the evening. The mayor of the village, in delivering the prize to the author of it, made a warm speech in which he said that it was by far the most "eloquent" thing he had ever listened to, and that Daniel Webster himself might well be proud of it.
It may be remarked, in passing, that the number of compositions in which the word "beauteous" was over-fondled, and human experience referred to as "life's page," was up to the usual average.
Now the master, mellow almost to the verge of geniality, put his chair aside, turned his back to the audience, and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard, to exercise the geography class upon. But he made a sad business of it with his unsteady hand, and a smothered titter rippled over the house. He knew what the matter was, and set himself to right it. He sponged out lines and remade them; but he only distorted them more than ever, and the tittering was more pronounced. He threw his entire attention upon his work, now, as if determined not to be put down by the mirth. He felt that all eyes were fastened upon him; he imagined he was succeeding, and yet the tittering continued; it even manifestly increased. And well it might. There was a garret above, pierced with a scuttle over his head; and down through this scuttle came a cat, suspended around the haunches by a string; she had a rag tied about her head and jaws to keep her from mewing; as she slowly descended she curved upward and clawed at the string, she swung downward and clawed at the intangible air. The tittering rose higher and higher -- the cat was within six inches of the absorbed teacher's head -- down, down, a little lower, and she grabbed his wig with her desperate claws, clung to it, and was snatched up into the garret in an instant with her trophy still in her possession! And how the light did blaze abroad from the master's bald pate -- for the sign-painter's boy had gilded it!
That broke up the meeting. The boys were avenged. Vacation had come.
[NOTE:-- The pretended "compositions" quoted in this chapter are taken without alteration from a volume entitled "Prose and Poetry, by a Western Lady" -- but they are exactly and precisely after the schoolgirl pattern, and hence are much happier than any mere imitations could be.]  
第二十一章　流利的口才，老师的镀金脑袋  
    暑假即将来临，向来就严厉的老师现在变得比以往任何时候都更加严厉、越发苛刻了，他目的是要全体同学在考试的那一天好好表现一番。他手中的教鞭和戒尺现在很少闲着，至少对那些年龄较小的同学可以这么说。只有最大的男孩子和１８到２０岁的年轻姑娘才不挨打。杜宾斯先生的鞭子打起来特别重。别看他头戴假发，光秃着脑袋，可他刚到中年，身上的肌肉没有一点松弛的迹象。随着“大考”的临近，他的蛮劲渐渐暴露无遗。只要学生出了差错，哪怕是微不足道的小错，他也要乘机发挥，以惩罚学生来获取快感。结果这弄得那些年龄较小的男孩子惶惶不得终日，晚上就盘算着如何进行报复。他们一有空就捣蛋，从不放过任何给老师添乱子的机会。可老师仍然我行我素，不睬他们那一套。要是孩子们成功的话，随之而来的惩罚犹如风卷残云，威风凛凛，总是以孩子们的彻底失败而告终。但他们并不甘心失败，而是聚在一起密谋，最后终于想出了一条妙计，这一定能取得辉煌胜利。他们找到了做招牌人的孩子，先让他发誓保密，然后将他们的秘密计划告诉他，请他帮忙，这真是一拍即合。原来这位老师在他家吃饭，在很多事情上已经得罪了这个孩子。过几天，老师的太太要到乡下去串门，这样他们就能顺利地实施计划。另外，每逢重要日子，老师都要喝得酩酊大醉。那孩子说大考那天晚上，等老师差不多醉倒在椅子上打盹的时候，他就“乘机下手”，然后再伺机弄醒他，催他快到学校去。    到了预定的时间，晚上８点钟，那个有趣的时刻终于来临了。    教室里灯火辉煌，挂着花环和彩带，彩带上扎着叶子和花朵。在高高的讲台上，老师像皇帝一样坐在那把大椅子里，身后就是黑板。还好他看上去不像大醉的样子。他前面有六排长凳，上面坐着镇上的要人。两边又各有三排长凳，坐的是学生家长。左前方，家长座位后面临时搭起了一个大讲台，参加晚上考试的考生全都坐在这里。一排排的小男孩被家长打扮得过了头，个个被洗得干干净净，穿得整整齐齐，让人觉得都有点不舒服。接着的是一排排大男孩，显得有些腼腆和呆板。再瞧那些小女孩和大姑娘，她们一身素装，洁白耀眼，个个穿着细麻软布做的衣服，头上插着许多装饰品，有鲜花，有粉红和蓝色相间的发带，还有老祖母传下来的各种小装饰物。她们露着胳膊站在那里，尤其显得有些局促不安。    那些没有考试任务的学生都散坐在教室里别的地方。    考试开始了。一个年龄小的男孩站起来按事先准备好的说：“大家可能没有想到，像我这年龄的孩子会到讲台上来当众演讲。”等等诸如此类的话。他边说边十分吃力地比划着，动作虽然准确，但却很生硬，生硬得像出了点故障的机器一般。他机械地鞠躬退场，获得了全场一阵热烈的鼓掌。    一个小女孩脸通红口齿不清地背诵了“玛丽有只小羊羔”等，然后十分认真地行了个屈膝礼。在博得了大家的一阵掌声后，她红着脸，高兴地坐了下来。    汤姆·索亚十分自信地走上前去，背起了那千古名篇《不自由，毋宁死》。他慷慨陈词，不时还大幅度地做着手势，    可背着背着中途就接不上了。怯场症像魔鬼一样攫住了他，他两腿发颤，似乎有窒息之感。所有在场的人确实替他捏了把汗，可没人吭一声，这让他觉得比同情他更难受。到后来，老师皱起了眉头，汤姆这下全完了。他结结巴巴要往下背诵，可过了一会，便好像只斗败的公鸡一样溜下场去。台下的人想鼓一两掌，可掌声刚起就消失了。    随后有人背诵了“那个男孩子站在燃烧的甲板上”，“亚述人走来了”等一些名篇。接下来的是朗读表演和拼写比赛。寥寥数人的拉丁语班背诵时显得无比自豪。最后晚上的黄金节目终于到了——姑娘们自己的“独创大作”。大家一个接一个走上前站在讲台边，等清完嗓子就拿出稿子（用鲜艳的缎带扎着）念起来。她们个个念得有声有色，十分卖力让人都觉得有点不自然。文章的主题都是她们的母亲和祖母们在同样场合下早已发挥过的。毫无疑问，由此可以追溯到十字军时代她们家族的母系祖先们，人人都用过这类主题，《友情论》就是其中之一。另外还有《昔日重来》、《历史上的宗教》、《梦境》、《文化的优点》、《政体比照论》、《伤感》、《孝道》、《心愿》等等。这类文章的共同特点有三个：一是无病呻吟，故作悲伤；二是堆砌词语，滥用华丽词藻；三是特别偏爱一些陈词滥调。此外，这些文章有个显著特点，也是它们的败笔之处：就是每篇文章的结尾都有一段根深蒂固的说教词，好像断尾巴的狗一样，令人难受。她们的“独创大作”不管涉及到什么内容，她们都绞尽脑汁，千方百计让人思索以便获得道德或宗教上的启示。在众目睽睽之下，这种说教虽然给人以假话的感觉，但这种风气还是消除不了，时至今日依然如故。也许只要世界存在一天，这种毫无诚意的说教就永远消灭不了。在这个国度里，有哪所学校的女生不觉得非在文章的结尾加上一段说教词不可呢？更有意思的是你会发现越是不守规矩、不太信仰宗教的那些女孩，她们的文章写的就越长、越虔诚。    得了，忠言逆耳，不说这些了。我们再接着讲“大考”的情况。朗读的第一篇文章的题目是《难道这就是生活吗？》。下面摘录一段“以飨”读者。    飞舞驰骋的想象描绘出一幅幅玫瑰色欢乐的场景。    时尚的弄潮儿沉溺于纸醉金迷，梦幻中发现自己置身于欢乐的人群，成了众人眼里的明星。她举止优雅，身穿素装长袍，翩翩起舞于欢乐的迷宫。她的眼睛最明亮，她的步伐最轻盈。    梦幻美妙，时光如梭，等待她进入天堂的时刻来临了。她的所见犹如被点化一般，似仙女下凡！每到一处，物变景更美。可时隔不久，她发现漂亮的外表徒有虚名：    曾经令她心花怒放的甜言蜜语，现在铮铮刺耳；舞厅变得平淡无奇；她身心憔悴地退出，笃信世俗之乐何以能够慰藉心灵的企求！    等等、等等诸如此类的话，朗读中，人群里爆发出一阵满意的嗡嗡声，还不时地突然低声说道：“多么美好！”“真能服人！”“朴实无华！”最后一段布道词特别令人难受，大家都巴不得早点结束。朗读刚完，全场就报以热烈的掌声。    下一个站起来的是一位身材瘦弱、性格忧郁的女孩，她脸色苍白得引人注目，那是经常服药和消化不良留下的后遗症。她朗颂了一首“诗歌”。这里节选其中两节就可以了：
    密苏里少女告别阿拉巴马
    再见，阿拉巴马！我爱你笃深，    离别虽短暂，难舍又难分！    想到你，往事历历燃胸间，    爱怜又悲伤。    曾记否，万花丛中留下我的足迹，    德拉波斯溪旁有我朗朗的读书声；    我听过德达西的流水犹如万马奔腾，    我见过库萨山巅晨曦的分娩。    我心系百事，无悔无怨，    含泪回首，心平气缓。    我告别的是我熟悉的地方，    见我叹息的也不是异乡他客；    来到该州，我宾至如归，    可如今我将远离高山大谷。    亲爱的阿拉巴马，一旦我心灰意冷，    那时，我真的告别人寰。    在场的人没有几个理解她“真的告别人寰”的含义，不过这首诗还是令人满意的。    接着又上来一位姑娘。她黑眼睛、黑头发连皮肤也黝黑。上来后，她稍作停顿，这一停顿令人难忘。随后她一副痛苦不堪的样子，用庄严而又有节奏的语调开始念起来。
    一个梦想
    夜色深沉，狂风肆虐，暴雨倾盆。老天爷高高在上，四周无半点星辰闪烁；炸雷滚滚，满天轰鸣，震耳欲聋。    愤怒的闪电穿过乌云，划破夜空，大有吞噬富兰克林之感。这位杰出的科学家在闪电交织的时候勇敢地放飞风筝以测电能。大风也平地而起，以助雷电群起而攻之，场面更加荒凉无比。    如此时刻，如此黑暗阴沉，我心生慈悲为众生哀叹。    “我最亲爱的朋友、老师、我的安慰者和向导——    我的悲伤中的快乐，我随着欢乐而来的福，”来到我身边。    她像浪漫的年轻画家画的伊甸园里的仙女一般，漫步在阳光下，一个朴实无华巧夺天工的绝代佳人。她步履轻盈来去无声无息。要不是她也和别的仙女一样轻抚人间，令人神奇为之震颤，她会像浮云一般让人不知不觉，消失得无影无踪。她指着外面酣战的狂风暴雨要人们想想它们各象征着什么，这时她脸上莫名其妙地顿生愁云，犹如寒冬腊月里的天气令人颤栗。
    令人可怕的描述差不多用了十页稿纸，结尾仍是一段说教词，把非长老会的教徒说得一点希望都没有，这篇文章因此而获得了头奖，被认为是当天晚上最优秀的作文。镇长在颁奖时，发表了一番热情洋溢的讲话。他说这篇文章是他平生以来听到的“最美”的文章，连大演说家丹尼尔·韦伯斯特听了也会感到骄傲的。    顺便说一下，有些人过多使用“美好”两个字，爱把人生的经历比喻成“人生的一页”，这样的文章像平常一样出现了很多。    那位老师这时醉得几乎是一副和蔼可亲的样子。他推开椅子，背对着观众，开始在黑板上画美国地图，为考地理课作准备。可他的手不听使唤，结果把图画得不象样，引得大家暗地里忍俊不禁。他心里清楚大家在笑他画得不好，于是就着手修改。他擦去一些线，然后又画上，结果画得比原来的还差，大家更加肆无忌惮地笑话他。他孤注一掷，大有泰山压顶不弯腰之势，全身心地投入，准备把地图画好。他觉得大家全都盯着他看，想象着自己终于画成了一幅像样的美国图，可是下面的笑声还是不断传来，并且明显地越来越大。原来他头顶上是个阁楼，阁楼的天窗正对着老师的头顶。一只腰部系着绳子的猫从上面悬空而下，它的头和嘴被破布扎上了，出不了声。在下降的过程中，猫向上翘起身子用爪抓住绳子，然后在空中乱舞一通后向下悠来。大家的笑声越来越大。猫离那个专心作画的老师头部只有六英寸远。越来越近，越来越低，猫终于在绝望中一下子抓住了老师的假发。随即那猫连同假发一下子又窜回阁楼。老师的秃头光彩四射，因为那个做招牌人的孩子已经给他头上上了一层光。考试就此结束，孩子们报了仇，假期来临了。
Chapter 22
TOM joined the new order of Cadets of Temperance, being attracted by the showy character of their "regalia." He promised to abstain from smoking, chewing, and profanity as long as he remained a member. Now he found out a new thing -- namely, that to promise not to do a thing is the surest way in the world to make a body want to go and do that very thing. Tom soon found himself tormented with a desire to drink and swear; the desire grew to be so intense that nothing but the hope of a chance to display himself in his red sash kept him from withdrawing from the order. Fourth of July was coming; but he soon gave that up -- gave it up before he had worn his shackles over forty-eight hours -- and fixed his hopes upon old Judge Frazer, justice of the peace, who was apparently on his deathbed and would have a big public funeral, since he was so high an official. During three days Tom was deeply concerned about the Judge's condition and hungry for news of it. Sometimes his hopes ran high -- so high that he would venture to get out his regalia and practise before the lookingglass. But the Judge had a most discouraging way of fluctuating. At last he was pronounced upon the mend -- and then convalescent. Tom was disgusted; and felt a sense of injury, too. He handed in his resignation at once -- and that night the Judge suffered a relapse and died. Tom resolved that he would never trust a man like that again.
The funeral was a fine thing. The Cadets paraded in a style calculated to kill the late member with envy. Tom was a free boy again, however -- there was something in that. He could drink and swear, now -- but found to his surprise that he did not want to. The simple fact that he could, took the desire away, and the charm of it.
Tom presently wondered to find that his coveted vacation was beginning to hang a little heavily on his hands.
He attempted a diary -- but nothing happened during three days, and so he abandoned it.
The first of all the negro minstrel shows came to town, and made a sensation. Tom and Joe Harper got up a band of performers and were happy for two days.
Even the Glorious Fourth was in some sense a failure, for it rained hard, there was no procession in consequence, and the greatest man in the world (as Tom supposed), Mr. Benton, an actual United States Senator, proved an overwhelming disappointment – for he was not twenty-five feet high, nor even anywhere in the neighborhood of it.
A circus came. The boys played circus for three days afterward in tents made of rag carpeting -- admission, three pins for boys, two for girls -- and then circusing was abandoned.
A phrenologist and a mesmerizer came -- and went again and left the village duller and drearier than ever.
There were some boys-and-girls' parties, but they were so few and so delightful that they only made the aching voids between ache the harder.
Becky Thatcher was gone to her Constantinople home to stay with her parents during vacation -- so there was no bright side to life anywhere.
The dreadful secret of the murder was a chronic misery. It was a very cancer for permanency and pain.
Then came the measles.
During two long weeks Tom lay a prisoner, dead to the world and its happenings. He was very ill, he was interested in nothing. When he got upon his feet at last and moved feebly down-town, a melancholy change had come over everything and every creature. There had been a "revival," and everybody had "got religion," not only the adults, but even the boys and girls. Tom went about, hoping against hope for the sight of one blessed sinful face, but disappointment crossed him everywhere. He found Joe Harper studying a Testament, and turned sadly away from the depressing spectacle. He sought Ben Rogers, and found him visiting the poor with a basket of tracts. He hunted up Jim Hollis, who called his attention to the precious blessing of his late measles as a warning. Every boy he encountered added another ton to his depression; and when, in desperation, he flew for refuge at last to the bosom of Huckleberry Finn and was received with a Scriptural quotation, his heart broke and he crept home and to bed realizing that he alone of all the town was lost, forever and forever.
And that night there came on a terrific storm, with driving rain, awful claps of thunder and blinding sheets of lightning. He covered his head with the bedclothes and waited in a horror of suspense for his doom; for he had not the shadow of a doubt that all this hubbub was about him. He believed he had taxed the forbearance of the powers above to the extremity of endurance and that this was the result. It might have seemed to him a waste of pomp and ammunition to kill a bug with a battery of artillery, but there seemed nothing incongruous about the getting up such an expensive thunderstorm as this to knock the turf from under an insect like himself.
By and by the tempest spent itself and died without accomplishing its object. The boy's first impulse was to be grateful, and reform. His second was to wait -- for there might not be any more storms.
The next day the doctors were back; Tom had relapsed. The three weeks he spent on his back this time seemed an entire age. When he got abroad at last he was hardly grateful that he had been spared, remembering how lonely was his estate, how companionless and forlorn he was. He drifted listlessly down the street and found Jim Hollis acting as judge in a juvenile court that was trying a cat for murder, in the presence of her victim, a bird. He found Joe Harper and Huck Finn up an alley eating a stolen melon. Poor lads! they -- like Tom -- had suffered a relapse.  
第二十二章　哈克·费恩引经弄典 
    汤姆被少年节制会的漂亮“绶带”吸引住了，就加入了该新组织。他保证入会期间，不抽烟，不嚼烟，不渎神。之后他有了个新发现——那就是，嘴上保证的越漂亮，而实际上干的正好相反。汤姆不久就发觉自己被一种强烈的欲望所折磨，即想抽烟，想破口大骂。这种欲望如此强烈，他真想从节制会退出来，念及自己能有机会佩戴红肩带好好露把脸，他才打消了退会的念头。七月四号快要到了（美国独立纪念日），但不久他就放弃了这个愿望——戴上”枷锁”还不到四十八个小时，他就放弃了这种愿望——又把希望寄托在治安法官弗雷塞老头身上。此人显然行将就木，既然他身居要职，死后一定会有一个盛大的丧礼。三天以来，汤姆深切关注着法官的病情，如饥似渴等着消息。有时，他的希望似乎触手可及——他甚至大胆地拿出他的绶带，对着镜子自我演示一番。但法官病情的进展不尽汤姆的人意。后来，他竟生机重现——接着便慢慢康复了。汤姆对此大光其火；他简直觉得自己受了伤害。于是他马上申请退会——但就在当晚，法官旧病复发，一命呜呼。汤姆发誓以后再也不相信这种人了。    丧礼搞得颇为隆重。少年节制会的会员们神气十足地列队游行，让那位退会的会员忌妒得要死。但不管怎么说，汤姆又恢复自由这很有意义。他又可以喝酒，可以咒娘了——可是他惊奇地发现自己对这些事兴趣索然。道理很简单，他现在自由了，这些做法反而失去了魅力，他可以摆脱欲望了。    汤姆不久就感到，让他梦寐以求的暑假渐渐变得沉闷冗长起来。    他试图写写日记——但三天以来，没有什么稀罕事儿发生，于是他又放弃了这个想法。    一流的黑人演奏队来到了这个小镇，引起了轰动。汤姆和哈帕组织了一队演奏员，尽情地疯了两天。    就连光荣的七月四日从某种意义上说，也没那么热闹了。因为那天下了场大雨，所以没有队伍游行，而世界上最伟大的人物（在汤姆看来），一个真正的美国参议员本顿先生，令人失望——因为事实上他身高并没有二十五英尺，甚至远远挨不上这个边儿。    马戏团来了。从那以后，孩子们用破毯子搭起一个帐篷，一连玩了三天的马戏——入场券是：男孩子要三根别针，女孩子要两根——不久，马戏也不玩了。    后来，又来了一个骨相家和一个催眠师——他们也走了，这个镇子较之以往更加沉闷、更加乏味。    有人举办过男孩子和女孩子的联欢会，但次数有限，况且联欢会又那么有趣，所以在没有联欢会的日子里，空虚的、苦恼的气味更浓了。    贝基·撒切尔去康士坦丁堡镇的家里，和她父母一起度暑假去了——所以，无论怎样过，生活皆无乐趣可言。    那次可怕的谋杀案的秘密不断折磨着汤姆，简直像一颗永不甘休的毒瘤。    接着，汤姆又患上了麻疹。    在漫长的两周里，汤姆像个犯人似地在家躺着，与世隔绝。他病得很厉害，对什么都不感兴趣。当他终于能起身下床，虚弱无力地在镇子里走动的时候，他发现周围的人和事都发生了变化，变得压抑了。镇上有过一次“信仰复兴会”，所有的人都“信主”了，不仅是女人，男孩和女孩也不例外。汤姆到处走走，在绝望之中希望能看见哪怕一个被上帝放过的邪恶的面孔，结果处处使他失望。他发现乔·哈帕正在啃《圣经》，便难过地避开了这一扫兴场景。接着他找到了本·罗杰斯，发现他正手提一篮布道的小册子去看望穷人们。他又找到了吉姆·荷利斯，后者提醒他要从最近得的麻疹中汲取宝贵的教训。每遇到一个孩子，他的沉闷就多添一分。最后，百无聊赖之际，他去知交哈克贝利·费恩那儿寻求安慰，想不到他也引用《圣经》上的一段话来迎接他。汤姆沮丧透顶，悄悄溜回家里，躺在床上，意识到全镇人中，唯有他永远、永远地成了一只“迷途的羔羊”。    就在当夜，刮来了一场可怕的暴风，大雨滂沱，电闪雷呜，令人耳聩目弦。汤姆用床单蒙着头，心惊胆寒地等待着自己的末日来临。因为他一点也不怀疑，所有这一切狂风骤雨都是冲着他来的。他深信是他惹翻了上帝，使他怒不可遏，瞧，现在报应来了！在他看来，像这般用一排大炮来歼灭一只小虫，似乎有点小题大作，而且也未免太浪费弹药。但要彻底铲除像他这样的一条害虫，又似乎怎么都不为过。    后来，暴风雨精疲力尽，未达目的即告休兵。这孩子的第一个冲动就是谢天谢地，准备脱胎换骨，走向新岸。第二个冲动是等待——因为兴许今后不会再有暴风雨了呢。    第二天，医生们又来了；汤姆的病又犯了。这一次，他在床上躺了三周，在他看来，仿佛是整整一个世纪。当他从病床上起来的时候，回想起自身多么地凄苦，无助而寂寞，他竟然觉得未遭雷击算不上什么可喜可贺的事。他茫然地走上街头，碰到了吉姆·荷利斯在扮演法官，正在一个儿童法庭上审理一件猫儿咬死小鸟的谋杀案，被害者也在场。他还发现乔·哈帕和哈克·费恩正在一条巷子里吃偷来的甜瓜。可怜的孩子！他们——也像汤姆一样——老毛病又犯了。
Chapter 23
AT last the sleepy atmosphere was stirred -- and vigorously: the murder trial came on in the court. It became the absorbing topic of village talk immediately. Tom could not get away from it. Every reference to the murder sent a shudder to his heart, for his troubled conscience and fears almost persuaded him that these remarks were put forth in his hearing as "feelers"; he did not see how he could be suspected of knowing anything about the murder, but still he could not be comfortable in the midst of this gossip. It kept him in a cold shiver all the time. He took Huck to a lonely place to have a talk with him. It would be some relief to unseal his tongue for a little while; to divide his burden of distress with another sufferer. Moreover, he wanted to assure himself that Huck had remained discreet.
"Huck, have you ever told anybody about -- that?"
"'Bout what?"
"You know what."
"Oh -- 'course I haven't."
"Never a word?"
"Never a solitary word, so help me. What makes you ask?"
"Well, 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 half-breed 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. But let's swear again, anyway. It's more surer."
"I'm agreed."
So they swore again with dread solemnities.
"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 -- he give me half a fish, once, when there warn't enough for two; and lots of times he's kind of stood by me when I was out of luck."
"Well, he's mended kites for me, Huck, and knitted hooks on to my line. I wish we could get him out of there."
"My! we couldn't get him out, Tom. And besides, 'twouldn't do any good; they'd ketch him again."
"Yes -- so they would. But I hate to hear 'em abuse him so like the dickens when he never done -- that."
"I do too, Tom. Lord, I hear 'em say he's the bloodiest looking villain in this country, and they wonder he wasn't ever hung before."
"Yes, they talk like that, all the time. I've heard 'em say that if he was to get free they'd lynch him."
"And they'd do it, too."
The boys had a long talk, but it brought them little comfort. As the twilight drew on, they found themselves hanging about the neighborhood of the little isolated jail, perhaps with an undefined hope that something would happen that might clear away their difficulties. But nothing happened; there seemed to be no angels or fairies interested in this luckless captive.
The boys did as they had often done before -- went to the cell grating and gave Potter some tobacco and matches. He was on the ground floor and there were no guards.
His gratitude for their gifts had always smote their consciences before -- it cut deeper than ever, this time. They felt cowardly and treacherous to the last degree when Potter said:
"You've been mighty good to me, boys -- better'n anybody else in this town. And I don't forget it, I don't. Often I says to myself, says I, 'I used to mend all the boys' kites and things, and show 'em where the good fishin' places was, and befriend 'em what I could, and now they've all forgot old Muff when he's in trouble; but Tom don't, and Huck don't -- they don't forget him, says I, 'and I don't forget them.' Well, boys, I done an awful thing -- drunk and crazy at the time -- that's the only way I account for it – and now I got to swing for it, and it's right. Right, and best, too, I reckon -- hope so, anyway. Well, we won't talk about that. I don't want to make you feel bad; you've befriended me. But what I want to say, is, don't you ever get drunk -- then you won't ever get here. Stand a litter furder west -- so -- that's it; it's a prime comfort to see faces that's friendly when a body's in such a muck of trouble, and there don't none come here but yourn. Good friendly faces -- good friendly faces. Git up on one another's backs and let me touch 'em. That's it. Shake hands -- yourn'll come through the bars, but mine's too big. Little hands, and weak -- but they've helped Muff Potter a power, and they'd help him more if they could."
Tom went home miserable, and his dreams that night were full of horrors. The next day and the day after, he hung about the court-room, drawn by an almost irresistible impulse to go in, but forcing himself to stay out. Huck was having the same experience. They studiously avoided each other. Each wandered away, from time to time, but the same dismal fascination always brought them back presently. Tom kept his ears open when idlers sauntered out of the courtroom, but invariably heard distressing news -- the toils were closing more and more relentlessly around poor Potter. At the end of the second day the village talk was to the effect that Injun Joe's evidence stood firm and unshaken, and that there was not the slightest question as to what the jury's verdict would be.
Tom was out late, that night, and came to bed through the window. He was in a tremendous state of excitement. It was hours before he got to sleep. All the village flocked to the court-house the next morning, for this was to be the great day. Both sexes were about equally represented in the packed audience. After a long wait the jury filed in and took their places; shortly afterward, Potter, pale and haggard, timid and hopeless, was brought in, with chains upon him, and seated where all the curious eyes could stare at him; no less conspicuous was Injun Joe, stolid as ever. There was another pause, and then the judge arrived and the sheriff proclaimed the opening of the court. The usual whisperings among the lawyers and gathering together of papers followed. These details and accompanying delays worked up an atmosphere of preparation that was as impressive as it was fascinating.
Now a 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. After some further questioning, counsel for the prosecution said:
"Take the witness."
The prisoner raised his eyes for a moment, but dropped them again when his own counsel said:
"I have no questions to ask him."
The next witness proved the finding of the knife near the corpse. Counsel for the prosecution said:
"Take the witness."
"I have no questions to ask him," Potter's lawyer replied.
A third witness swore he had often seen the knife in Potter's possession.
"Take the witness."
Counsel for Potter declined to question him. The faces of the audience began to betray annoyance. Did this attorney mean to throw away his client's life without an effort?
Several 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.
Every detail of the damaging circumstances that occurred in the graveyard upon that morning which all present remembered so well was brought out by credible witnesses, but none of them were crossexamined by Potter's lawyer. The perplexity and dissatisfaction of the house expressed itself in murmurs and provoked a reproof from the bench. Counsel for the prosecution now said:
"By the oaths of citizens whose simple word is above suspicion, we have fastened this awful crime, beyond all possibility of question, upon the unhappy prisoner at the bar. We rest our case here."
A groan escaped from poor Potter, and he put his face in his hands and rocked his body softly to and fro, while a painful silence reigned in the court-room. Many men were moved, and many women's compassion testified itself in tears. 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. Every eye fastened itself with wondering interest upon Tom as he rose and took his place upon the stand. The boy looked wild enough, for he was badly scared. The oath was administered.
"Thomas Sawyer, where were you on the seventeenth of June, about the hour of midnight?"
Tom glanced at Injun Joe's iron face and his tongue failed him. The audience listened breathless, but the words refused to come. After a few moments, however, the boy got a little of his strength back, and managed to put enough of it into his voice to make part of the house hear:
"In the graveyard!"
"A little bit louder, please. Don't be afraid. You were --"
"In the graveyard."
A contemptuous smile flitted across Injun Joe's face.
"Were you anywhere near Horse Williams' grave?"
"Yes, sir."
"Speak up -- just a trifle louder. How near were you?"
"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."
Injun Joe gave a barely perceptible start.
"Any one with you?"
"Yes, sir. I went there with --"
"Wait -- wait a moment. Never mind mentioning your companion's name. We will produce him at the proper time. Did you carry anything there with you."
Tom hesitated and looked confused.
"Speak out, my boy -- don't be diffident. The truth is always respectable. What did you take there?"
"Only a -- a -- dead cat."
There was a ripple of mirth, which the court checked.
"We will produce the skeleton of that cat. Now, my boy, tell us everything that occurred -- tell it in your own way -- don't skip anything, and don't be afraid."
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 the half-breed sprang for a window, tore his way through all opposers, and was gone!  
第二十三章　波特无罪，乔逃亡在外 
    最后，昏昏然的气氛被打破了——而且打破得很彻底：那起谋杀案在法庭上公开审理了。这事立即成了全镇人谈论的热门话题。汤姆无法摆脱这件事。每逢有人提及这起谋杀案，他就心为之悸，因为他那不安的良心和极度的恐惧几乎使他相信，人家是故意说给他听，探探他的“口风”；他不明白，别人怎么会怀疑自己了解这个案情，但听了这些议论，他总是不能够泰然处之。这些话让他不停地打寒噤。他把哈克拉到一个僻静处，同他谈了这件事。能暂时地倾吐一下心结，和另一个同样受折磨的人共同分担一下忧愁，这对汤姆来说，多少算是点安慰。而且，他想搞清楚，哈克是否始终没把这个秘密泄露出去。    “哈克，你曾经跟什么人说起过——那件事吗？”    “什么事情？”    “明知故问。”    “哦——当然没说过。”    “一句也没说过吗？”    “一个字也没说过，我发誓。你问这个干吗？”    “唉，我很害怕。”    “嘿，汤姆·索亚，一旦秘密泄露，我们连两天也活不成。这你知道。”    汤姆觉得心里踏实多了。停了一会，他说：    “哈克，要是他们逼你招供，你怎么办？”    “逼我招供？嘿，除非我想被那个混帐王八蛋活活淹死，我才会招供。否则，他们绝办不到。”    “好吧，这样就没事了。我想只要咱们守口如瓶，就可保安然无恙。但是，让咱们再发一回誓吧。这样更牢靠些。”    “我赞成。”    于是他们又非常严肃认真地发了一回誓。    “大家都在议论些什么事，哈克？我听到的多得一塌糊涂呀！”    “什么事？嗐，还不是莫夫·波特、莫夫·波特、莫夫·波特，没完没了。这些话让人直冒冷汗，我想找个地方躲一躲。”    “我也有同感。我想他算是完了。你是不是有时候也为他感到难过？”    “差不多经常为他难过——经常是这样。他不算什么人物；但他从来没做过什么伤天害理的事情。不过是钓钓鱼，去卖钱来换酒大喝一通——常到处闲逛；可是，老天，咱们也没少干这些事啊——起码咱们多半都是这样——连布道的人也不例外。但是他心眼好——有一次，我钓的鱼不够两个人分，他还给了我半条鱼；还有好多次，我运气不佳的时候，他都没少帮忙。”    “哎，哈克，他帮我修过风筝，还帮我把鱼钩系在竿子上。    我希望我们能把他救出来。”    “哎呀！汤姆，那可使不得。况且，救出来也不济于事；    他们还会再把他抓回去。”    “是呀——他们会再把他抓回去。可是，我讨厌听到他们骂他是魔鬼，其实他根本没干——那件事。”    “我也一样，汤姆。老天爷，我听到他们骂他是全国头一号恶棍，他们还说他为什么从前没被绞死呢。”    “对，他们一直都是这么骂的。我还听人说，要是他被放出来，他们就偷偷结果掉他。”    “他们真的会那么干。”    两个孩子谈了很久，可并没有得到什么安慰。天色向晚，他俩来到那偏僻的小牢房附近转悠，心里存着不太明确的希望，希望能发生什么意外之事，来帮他们排忧解难。但是，什么事也没发生；似乎没什么天使神仙对这倒霉的囚犯感兴趣。    这两个孩子还是像从前那样——走到牢房的窗户那儿，给波特递进去一点烟叶和火柴。他被关在第一层，没有看守。    他非常感激他俩给他送好东西，这更让他俩的良心不安起来——这一次，像把刀似的深深刺进他们心里。当波特打开话匣时，他俩觉得自己极其胆小怕事，是个十足的叛徒。他说：    “孩子们，你们对我太好了——比镇上任何其他的人都好。我不会忘记的，我忘不了。我常自个儿唸叨着：‘我过去常常给镇上的孩子们修理风筝之类的玩具，告诉他们什么地方钓鱼最好，尽力和他们交朋友。但现在波特老头遭难了，他们就把他给忘了；可是啊，汤姆没有忘，哈克也没有忘——只有他俩没有忘记他。’我说：‘我也不会忘记他们。’啊，孩子们，我干了件可怕的事情——当时我喝醉了，神志不清——我只能这么解释——现在，我要因此事而被吊死，这是应该的。我想，是应该的，也是最好的——我反倒希望被吊死。哦，咱们不谈这事了吧。我不想让你们伤心难过；你们对我这么好，但是，我想对你们说的就是，你们千万不能酗酒啊——这样，你们就不会被关到这里了。你们再往西站一点——对——就这样；一个人遭此不幸，还能看到对他友好的面孔，真是莫大的安慰啊。现在，除了你们，再也没有人来看我了。多么友好的脸蛋——多友好啊。你们俩一个爬到另一个背上，让我摸摸你们的脸吧。好了。咱们握握手吧——你们的手可以从窗户缝中伸进来，我的手太大不行。这么小的手，没多大力气——可就是这小手帮了莫夫·波特很大的忙，要是能帮上更大的忙，也会帮的呀。”    汤姆悲痛地回到家里，当夜做了很多恶梦。第二天和第三天，他在法院外面转来转去，心里有种无法克制的冲动，想闯进去，可他还是强迫自己留在外面。哈克也有同样的经历。他们故意相互回避着。他们时常从那里走开，可是又都被这件惨案吸引回来。每当有旁听的人从法庭出来，汤姆就侧着耳朵细听，但听到的消息都令人忧心忡忡——法网越来越无情地罩向可怜的莫夫·波特身上。第二天快结束的时候，镇上传言，印第安·乔的证据确凿无疑，陪审团如何裁决此案是明摆着的了。    那天夜里，汤姆很晚才回来，他从窗子里爬进来上床睡觉。由于极度兴奋，过了好几个小时他才睡着。次晨，镇上所有的人成群结队地向法院走去，因为今天是个不平常的日子。听众席上挤满了人，男女各占一半。人们等了很久，陪审团才一个接着一个入场就座；不一会，波特带着手铐被押了进来，他面色苍白，一脸憔悴，神情羞怯，一副听天由命的样子。他坐的地方很显眼，全场好奇的人都能看得见。印第安·乔也同样地引人注目，他还是和先前一样不露声色。又过了一会，法官驾到，执法官就宣布开庭。接着，就听见律师们惯例式地低头接耳和收拾文件的声音。这些细节和随后的耽搁给人们一种准备开庭的印象，它既让人印象深刻同时又令人着迷。    现在，一个证人被带上来。他作证说在谋杀案发生的那天清晨，他看见莫夫·波特在河里洗澡，并且很快就溜掉了。    原告律师问了一会，说：    “问讯证人。”    犯人抬眼看了一会，然后又低下了眼睛。这时他的辩护律师说：    “我没有问题要问。”    第二个证人证明，他曾在被害人尸体附近发现了那把刀。    原告律师说：    “问讯证人。”    波特的律师说：“我没有问题要问。”    第三个证人发誓说，他常常看见波特带着那把刀。    “问讯证人。”    波特的律师拒绝向这个证人提问。看得出听众们开始恼火了。难道这个辩护律师不打算作任何努力，就把他的当事人性命给断送掉吗？    有几个证人都作证说当波特被带到凶杀现场时，他表现出了畏罪行为。被告的律师没有盘问他们一句，就允许他们退出了证人席。    在场的人对那天早上坟地里发生的悲剧都记忆犹新。现在宣过誓的证人把一个一个的细节都讲了出来，不过他们无一受到波特律师的盘问。全场一片低语声，表达了人们的困惑和不满的情绪，结果引起了法官的一阵申斥。于是，原告律师说：    “诸位公民宣誓作证，言简意赅不容置疑，据此，我们认定这起可怕的谋杀案，毫无疑问，系被告席上这个不幸的犯人所为。本案取证到此结束。”    可怜的莫夫呻吟了一声，他双手捂脸，来回轻轻地摇晃着身子，与此同时法庭上一片寂静，令人痛苦。许多男人都被感动了，女人们也掉下了同情的眼泪。这时，辩护律师站起身来，说：    “法官大人，本庭审讯之初，我们的所言就涵盖了开庭审讯之目的，我们曾力图证明我言外之意：我的当事人喝了酒，所以在神志不清的情况下干了这件可怕的事情。现在我改变了主意，我申请撤回那篇辩护词。”然后他对书记员说：“传汤姆·索亚！”    在场的每一个人都莫名其妙，惊诧不已；连波特也不例外。当汤姆站起来，走到证人席上的时候，人们都怀着极大的兴趣迷惑不解地盯着他。这孩子因为受到过分惊吓，看起来有点不能自制。他宣了誓。    “汤姆·索亚，６月１７日大约半夜时分，你在什么地方？”    看见印第安·乔那张冷酷的脸，汤姆舌头僵住了，讲不出话来。听众们屏息敛气静听，可是话还是没有说出来。然而，过了几分钟，这孩子恢复了一点气力，勉强提高了声音，但仍然只有部分人能听清楚他的话：    “在坟地！”    “请你稍微大点声。别害怕。你是在……”    “在坟地。”    印第安·乔的脸上迅速地闪过一丝嘲弄的微笑。    “你是在霍斯·威廉斯的坟墓附近的什么地方吗？”    “是的，先生。”    “大点声——再稍微大点声。距离有多远？”    “就像我离您这么远。”    “你是不是藏起来了？”    “是藏起来了。”    “什么地方？”    “藏在坟边的几棵榆树后面。”    印第安·乔吃了一惊，别人几乎没有察觉到。    “还有别人吗？”    “有，先生。我是和……”    “别忙——等一下。你不要提及你同伴的名字。我们在适当的时候，会传问他的。你到那里去，带着什么东西吗？”    汤姆犹豫着，不知所措。    “说出来吧，孩子——别害怕。说真话总是让人敬佩的。    带了什么去的？”    “就带了一只——呃——一只死猫。”    人们一阵哄笑。法官把他们喝止住了。    “我们会把那只死猫的残骸拿来给大家看的。现在，孩子，你把当时发生的事说出来——照实说——什么也别说漏掉，别害怕。”    汤姆开始说了——起初有些吞吞吐吐，可是渐渐地喜欢这个话题了，于是，就越说越流畅自如；没过多么，除了他在说话外别无其它声音，每双眼睛都在盯着他；人们张着嘴，屏住呼吸，兴致盎然地听他讲述着这个传奇般的经历，一点都没注意到时间，都被这个恐怖而又魅力十足的历险吸引住了。    说到后来，汤姆心中积压的情感一下子迸发出来，他说：    “……医生一挥那木牌，莫夫·波特就应声倒在地上，印第安·乔拿着刀，跳过来，狠狠就是一下……”    “哗啦！”那个混帐闪电一般，朝窗口窜去，冲开所有阻挡他的人，跑了！
Chapter 24
TOM was a glittering hero once more -- the pet of the old, the envy of the young. His name even went into immortal print, for the village paper magnified him. There were some that believed he would be President, yet, if he escaped hanging.
As usual, the fickle, unreasoning world took Muff Potter to its bosom and fondled him as lavishly as it had abused him before. But that sort of conduct is to the world's credit; therefore it is not well to find fault with it.
Tom's 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. Hardly any temptation could persuade the boy to stir abroad after nightfall. Poor Huck was 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.
Daily Muff Potter's gratitude made Tom glad he had spoken; but nightly he wished he had sealed up his tongue.
Half the time Tom was afraid Injun Joe would never be captured; the other half he was afraid he would be. He felt sure he never could draw a safe breath again until that man was dead and he had seen the corpse.
Rewards had been offered, the country had been scoured, but no Injun Joe was found. One of those omniscient and awe-inspiring marvels, a detective, came up from St. Louis, moused around, shook his head, looked wise, and made that sort of astounding success which members of that craft usually achieve. That is to say, he "found a clew." But you can't hang a "clew" for murder, and so after that detective had got through and gone home, Tom felt just as insecure as he was before.
The slow days drifted on, and each left behind it a slightly lightened weight of apprehension.  
第二十四章　白天神气十足，夜里提心吊担 
    汤姆又一次成为众人瞩目的英雄——长辈们宠爱他，同伴们羡慕他。他的名字见了报，获得了永生，镇上的报纸大肆宣扬了他的事迹。有些人相信，只要他不被绞死，将来总有一天会当总统。    那些喜怒无常、没有脑子的人们，又像往常一样，把莫夫·波特当作老伙计，对他非常亲密友好，那股热情劲儿就和当初他们起劲地凌辱他一样。但这种行为毕竟还是人类的美德，因此，我们还是不要去吹毛求疵吧。    汤姆白天过得神气十足，得意洋洋，可晚上全是在恐怖之中度过的。印第安·乔老是出现在他的梦里，而且目露凶光。天黑以后，无论多么大的诱惑也无法吸引这个孩子再走出家门。可怜的哈克也处于同样的不幸与恐怖之中。汤姆在开庭审理这个案子的头一天，已经把全部事实经过告诉了律师。虽然印第安·乔的逃跑使他免于出庭作证，但是，他还是极度害怕，害怕自己与这个案子有牵连的事会泄露出去。可怜的小家伙已经让律师向他保证，要替他保守秘密，可那又有什么用？汤姆的嘴原本已被可怕而庄严的誓词封住了，后来由于受到良心的折磨，他便在夜晚去律师家，把那可怕的经历抖露了出来。既然这样，哈克对人类的信任就几乎荡然无存了。    在白天，莫夫·波特的感谢使汤姆很高兴自己能说出事实真相；可是，一到晚上，他就懊悔自己未能封住舌头，守口如瓶。    有一段时间，汤姆惟恐印第安·乔永远逍遥法外；另一半时间，他又害怕他被捕。他深深感到，除非等这个人死了，让他亲眼看见他那具尸体，否则，他将永无宁日。    法院悬出赏，整个地区都搜遍了，可就是没揪住印第安·乔。从圣路易斯那些神通广大、令人敬畏的非凡人物中，派来了一名侦探。他四处调查，摇头晃脑，看起来颇为不凡，还像他的同行们一样，取得了惊人的进展。那就是说，他“找到了线索”。但是，你总不能把“线索”当作杀人犯拉来绞死。    所以在这位侦探完成任务回去之后，汤姆觉得和从前一样，没有安全感。    漫长的日子一天、一天地熬过来，每过一天，这种恐惧的心理负担就相应地稍稍减轻一点。
Chapter 25
THERE comes a time in every rightlyconstructed boy's life when he has a raging desire to go somewhere and dig for hidden treasure. This desire suddenly came upon Tom one day. He sallied out to find Joe Harper, but failed of success. Next he sought Ben Rogers; he had gone fishing. Presently he stumbled upon Huck Finn the Red-Handed. Huck would answer. Tom took him to a private place and opened the matter to him confidentially. Huck was willing. Huck was always willing to take a hand in any enterprise that offered entertainment and required no capital, for he had a troublesome superabundance of that sort of time which is not money. "Where'll we dig?" said Huck.
"Oh, most anywhere."
"Why, is it hid all around?"
"No, indeed it ain't. It's hid in mighty particular places, Huck -- sometimes on islands, sometimes in rotten chests under the end of a limb of an old dead tree, just where the shadow falls at midnight; but mostly under the floor in ha'nted houses."
"Who hides it?"
"Why, robbers, of course -- who'd you reckon? Sunday-school sup'rintendents?"
"I don't know. If 'twas mine I wouldn't hide it; I'd spend it and have a good time."
"So would I. But robbers don't do that way. They always hide it and leave it there."
"Don't they come after it any more?"
"No, they think they will, but they generally forget the marks, or else they die. Anyway, it lays there a long time and gets rusty; and by and by somebody finds an old yellow paper that tells how to find the marks -- a paper that's got to be ciphered over about a week because it's mostly signs and hy'roglyphics."
"HyroQwhich?"
"Hy'roglyphics -- pictures and things, you know, that don't seem to mean anything."
"Have you got one of them papers, Tom?"
"No."
"Well then, how you going to find the marks?"
"I don't want any marks. They always bury it under a ha'nted house or on an island, or under a dead tree that's got one limb sticking out. Well, we've tried Jackson's Island a little, and we can try it again some time; and there's the old ha'nted house up the Still-House branch, and there's lots of deadlimb trees -- dead loads of 'em."
"Is it under all of them?"
"How you talk! No!"
"Then how you going to know which one to go for?"
"Go for all of 'em!"
"Why, Tom, it'll take all summer."
"Well, what of that? Suppose you find a brass pot with a hundred dollars in it, all rusty and gray, or rotten chest full of di'monds. How's that?"
Huck's eyes glowed.
"That's bully. Plenty bully enough for me. Just you gimme the hundred dollars and I don't want no di'monds."
"All right. But I bet you I ain't going to throw off on di'monds. Some of 'em's worth twenty dollars apiece -- there ain't any, hardly, but's worth six bits or a dollar."
"No! Is that so?"
"Cert'nly -- anybody'll tell you so. Hain't you ever seen one, Huck?"
"Not as I remember."
"Oh, kings have slathers of them."
"Well, I don' know no kings, Tom."
"I reckon you don't. But if you was to go to Europe you'd see a raft of 'em hopping around."
"Do they hop?"
"Hop? -- your granny! No!"
"Well, what did you say they did, for?"
"Shucks, I only meant you'd see 'em -- not hopping, of course -- what do they want to hop for? -- but I mean you'd just see 'em -- scattered around, you know, in a kind of a general way. Like that old humpbacked Richard."
"Richard? What's his other name?"
"He didn't have any other name. Kings don't have any but a given name."
"No?"
"But they don't."
"Well, if they like it, Tom, all right; but I don't want to be a king and have only just a given name, like a nigger. But say – where you going to dig first?"
"Well, I don't know. S'pose we tackle that old dead-limb tree on the hill t'other side of Still-House branch?"
"I'm agreed."
So they got a crippled pick and a shovel, and set out on their three-mile tramp. They arrived hot and panting, and threw themselves down in the shade of a neighboring elm to rest and have a smoke.
"I like this," said Tom.
"So do I."
"Say, Huck, if we find a treasure here, what you going to do with your share?"
"Well, I'll have pie and a glass of soda every day, and I'll go to every circus that comes along. I bet I'll have a gay time."
"Well, ain't you going to save any of it?"
"Save it? What for?"
"Why, so as to have something to live on, by and by."
"Oh, that ain't any use. Pap would come back to thish-yer town some day and get his claws on it if I didn't hurry up, and I tell you he'd clean it out pretty quick. What you going to do with yourn, Tom?"
"I'm going to buy a new drum, and a sure-'nough sword, and a red necktie and a bull pup, and get married."
"Married!"
"That's it."
"Tom, you -- why, you ain't in your right mind."
"Wait -- you'll see."
"Well, that's the foolishest thing you could do. Look at pap and my mother. Fight! Why, they used to fight all the time. I remember, mighty well."
"That ain't anything. The girl I'm going to marry won't fight."
"Tom, I reckon they're all alike. They'll all comb a body. Now you better think 'bout this awhile. I tell you you better. What's the name of the gal?"
"It ain't a gal at all -- it's a girl."
"It's all the same, I reckon; some says gal, some says girl -- both's right, like enough. Anyway, what's her name, Tom?"
"I'll tell you some time -- not now."
"All right -- that'll do. Only if you get married I'll be more lonesomer than ever."
"No you won't. You'll come and live with me. Now stir out of this and we'll go to digging."
They worked and sweated for half an hour. No result. They toiled another half-hour. Still no result. Huck said:
"Do they always bury it as deep as this?"
"Sometimes -- not always. Not generally. I reckon we haven't got the right place."
So they chose a new spot and began again. The labor dragged a little, but still they made progress. They pegged away in silence for some time. Finally Huck leaned on his shovel, swabbed the beaded drops from his brow with his sleeve, and said:
"Where you going to dig next, after we get this one?"
"I reckon maybe we'll tackle the old tree that's over yonder on Cardiff Hill back of the widow's."
"I reckon that'll be a good one. But won't the widow take it away from us, Tom? It's on her land."
"She take it away! Maybe she'd like to try it once. Whoever finds one of these hid treasures, it belongs to him. It don't make any difference whose land it's on."
That was satisfactory. The work went on. By and by Huck said:
"Blame it, we must be in the wrong place again. What do you think?"
"It is mighty curious, Huck. I don't understand it. Sometimes witches interfere. I reckon maybe that's what's the trouble now."
"Shucks! Witches ain't got no power in the daytime."
"Well, that's so. I didn't think of that. Oh, I know what the matter is! What a blamed lot of fools we are! You got to find out where the shadow of the limb falls at midnight, and that's where you dig!"
"Then consound it, we've fooled away all this work for nothing. Now hang it all, we got to come back in the night. It's an awful long way. Can you get out?"
"I bet I will. We've got to do it to-night, too, because if somebody sees these holes they'll know in a minute what's here and they'll go for it."
"Well, I'll come around and maow to-night."
"All right. Let's hide the tools in the bushes."
The boys were there that night, about the appointed time. They sat in the shadow waiting. It was a lonely place, and an hour made solemn by old traditions. Spirits whispered in the rustling leaves, ghosts lurked in the murky nooks, the deep baying of a hound floated up out of the distance, an owl answered with his sepulchral note. The boys were subdued by these solemnities, and talked little. By and by they judged that twelve had come; they marked where the shadow fell, and began to dig. Their hopes commenced to rise. Their interest grew stronger, and their industry kept pace with it. The hole deepened and still deepened, but every time their hearts jumped to hear the pick strike upon something, they only suffered a new disappointment. It was only a stone or a chunk. At last Tom said:
"It ain't any use, Huck, we're wrong again."
"Well, but we can't be wrong. We spotted the shadder to a dot."
"I know it, but then there's another thing."
"What's that?".
"Why, we only guessed at the time. Like enough it was too late or too early."
Huck dropped his shovel.
"That's it," said he. "That's the very trouble. We got to give this one up. We can't ever tell the right time, and besides this kind of thing's too awful, here this time of night with witches and ghosts a-fluttering around so. I feel as if something's behind me all the time; and I'm afeard to turn around, becuz maybe there's others in front a-waiting for a chance. I been creeping all over, ever since I got here."
"Well, I've been pretty much so, too, Huck. They most always put in a dead man when they bury a treasure under a tree, to look out for it."
"Lordy!"
"Yes, they do. I've always heard that."
"Tom, I don't like to fool around much where there's dead people. A body's bound to get into trouble with 'em, sure."
"I don't like to stir 'em up, either. S'pose this one here was to stick his skull out and say something!"
"Don't Tom! It's awful."
"Well, it just is. Huck, I don't feel comfortable a bit."
"Say, Tom, let's give this place up, and try somewheres else."
"All right, I reckon we better."
"What'll it be?"
Tom considered awhile; and then said:
"The ha'nted house. That's it!"
"Blame it, I don't like ha'nted houses, Tom. Why, they're a dern sight worse'n dead people. Dead people might talk, maybe, but they don't come sliding around in a shroud, when you ain't noticing, and peep over your shoulder all of a sudden and grit their teeth, the way a ghost does. I couldn't stand such a thing as that, Tom -- nobody could."
"Yes, but, Huck, ghosts don't travel around only at night. They won't hender us from digging there in the daytime."
"Well, that's so. But you know mighty well people don't go about that ha'nted house in the day nor the night."
"Well, that's mostly because they don't like to go where a man's been murdered, anyway -- but nothing's ever been seen around that house except in the night -- just some blue lights slipping by the windows -- no regular ghosts."
"Well, where you see one of them blue lights flickering around, Tom, you can bet there's a ghost mighty close behind it. It stands to reason. Becuz you know that they don't anybody but ghosts use 'em."
"Yes, that's so. But anyway they don't come around in the daytime, so what's the use of our being afeard?"
"Well, all right. We'll tackle the ha'nted house if you say so -- but I reckon it's taking chances."
They had started down the hill by this time. There in the middle of the moonlit valley below them stood the "ha'nted" house, utterly isolated, its fences gone long ago, rank weeds smothering the very doorsteps, the chimney crumbled to ruin, the window-sashes vacant, a corner of the roof caved in. The boys gazed awhile, half expecting to see a blue light flit past a window; then talking in a low tone, as befitted the time and the circumstances, they struck far off to the right, to give the haunted house a wide berth, and took their way homeward through the woods that adorned the rearward side of Cardiff Hill.  
第二十五章　掘地寻宝，空手而归 
    生得健全的男孩长到一定的时候就会萌生强烈的欲望：到它处去掘地寻宝。一天，汤姆也突生此念。他外出去找乔·哈帕，但没有找到。接着，他又去找本·罗杰斯，可是他去钓鱼去了。不久，他碰到了赤手大盗哈克·费恩。这倒也不错。汤姆把他拉到一个没人的地方，推心置腹地和他摊了牌。哈克欣然表示同意。凡是好玩的，又无须花本钱的冒险活动，哈克总是乐而不疲的。他有足够的时间，而时间又不是金钱，他正愁着没处花呢。    “我们上哪儿挖去？”哈克问。    “噢，好多地方都行哪。”    “怎么，难道到处都藏金匿银吗？”    “不，当然不是。财宝埋在一些相当特殊的地方，哈克——埋在岛上，有的装在朽木箱子里，埋在一棵枯死的大树底下，就是半夜时分树影照到的地方；不过，大多数情况下是埋在神鬼出没的房子下面。”    “是谁埋的呢？”    “嘿，你想还会有谁？当然是强盗们喽——难道是主日学校的校长不成？”    “我不知道。换了我，我才不把它给埋起来，我会拿出去花掉，痛痛快快地潇洒一回。”    “我也会的。但是，强盗们不这样干。他们总把钱埋起来，就撒手不问了。”    “埋过以后他们就不再来找它吗？”    “不，他们是想再找的。可是，他们要不是忘记当初留下的标志，就是死了。总之，财宝埋在那里，时间长了，都上了锈。渐渐地等到后来，就有人发现一张变了色的旧纸条，上面写着如何去找那些记号——这种纸条要花一个星期才能读通，因为上面用的差不多尽是些密码和象形文字。”    “象形——象形什么？”    “象形文字——图画之类的玩艺儿，你知道那玩艺儿看上去，好像没有什么意思。”    “你得到那样的纸条了吗，汤姆？”    “还没有。”    “那么，你打算怎么去找那些记号呢？”    “我不需要什么记号。他们老爱把财宝埋在闹鬼的屋子里或是一个岛上，再不就埋在枯死的树下面，那树上有一独枝伸出来。哼，我们已经在杰克逊岛上找过一阵子了，以后什么时候，我们可以再去找找。在鬼屋河岸上，有间闹鬼的老宅，那儿还有许许多多的枯树——多得很呢。”    “下面全埋着财宝吗？”    “瞧你说的！哪有那么多！”    “那么，你怎么知道该在哪一棵下面挖呢？”    “所有的树下面都要挖一挖。”    “哎，汤姆，这样干，可得挖上一整个夏天呀。”    “哦，那又怎么样？想想看你挖到一个铜罐子，里面装了一百块大洋，都上了锈，变了颜色；或者挖到了一只箱子，里面尽是些钻石。你该作何感想？”    哈克的眼睛亮了起来。    “那可真太棒了。对我来说，简直棒极了。你只要把那一百块大洋给我就得了，钻石我就不要了。”    “好吧。不过，钻石我可不会随便扔掉。有的钻石一颗就值二十美元——有的也不那么值钱，不过也要值六角到一块。”    “哎呀！是真的吗？”    “那当然啦——人人都这么说。你难道未见过钻石，哈克？”    “记忆中好像没见过。”    “嗨，国王的钻石可多着呢。”    “唉，汤姆，我一个国王也不认识呀。”    “这我知道。不过，你要是到欧洲去，你就能看到一大群国王，到处乱窜乱跳。”    “他们乱窜乱跳？”    “什么乱窜乱跳——你这糊涂蛋！不是！”    “哦，那你刚才说他们什么来着？”    “真是瞎胡闹，我的意思是说你会看见他们的——当然不是乱窜乱跳——他们乱窜乱跳干什么？——不过，我是说你会看见他们——用通俗的话说就是到处都有国王。比方说那个驼背的理查老国王。”    “理查？他姓什么？”    “他没有什么姓。国王只有名，没有姓。”    “没有姓？”    “确实没有。”    “唉，要是他们喜欢，汤姆，那也好；不过，我不想当国王，只有名，没有姓，像个黑鬼似的。得了，我问你——你打算从哪儿动手呢？”    “嗯，我也不知道。我们先去鬼屋河岸对面的小山上，从那棵枯树那儿开始挖，你说好不好？”    “我同意。”    于是，他们就找到一把不大好使的镐和一把铁锹，踏上了三英里的路程。等到达目的地，俩人已经热得满头大汗，气喘吁吁，于是往就近的榆树下面一躺，歇歇脚，抽袋烟。    “我喜欢干这活儿。”汤姆说。    “我也是。”    “喂，我说哈克，要是现在就找到了财宝，你打算怎么花你的那份呢？”    “嗨，我就天天吃馅饼，喝汽水，有多少场马戏，我就看多少场，场场不落。我敢说我会快活得像活神仙。”    “嗯，不过你不打算攒点钱吗？”    “攒钱？干什么用？”    “嘿，细水长流嘛。”    “哦，那没用的。我爸迟早会回到镇上，要是我不抓紧把钱花光，他一准会手伸得老长，抢我的钱。告诉你吧，他会很快把钱花得一个子儿不剩。你打算怎么花你的钱呢，汤姆？”    “我打算买一面新鼓，一把货真价实的宝剑，一条红领带和一只小斗犬，还要娶个老婆。”    “娶老婆！”    “是这么回事。”    “汤姆，你——喂，你脑子不正常吧。”    “等着瞧吧，你会明白的。”    “唉，要娶老婆，你可真傻冒透了。看看我爸跟我妈。穷争恶吵！唉，他们见面就打。自我记事他们一直打个没完。”    “这是两码子的事。我要娶的这个女孩子可不会跟我干仗。”    “汤姆，我以为她们都是一样。她们都会跟你胡搅蛮缠。你最好事先多想想。我劝你三思而后行。这个妞叫什么？”    “她不是什么妞——是个女孩子。”    “反正都一样，我想；有人喊妞，有人喊女孩——都是一码子事，一样。噢，对了，她到底叫什么来着，汤姆？”    “等以后再告诉你——现在不行。”    “那好吧——以后告诉就以后告诉吧，只是你成了家就孤独了我喽。”    “那怎么会呢，你可以搬过来，跟我们一起住。咱们还是别谈这些，动手挖吧。”    他们干了半个小时，大汗淋漓而未果。他们又拼命地干了半个钟头，还是一无所获。哈克说：    “他们总是埋得这样深吗？”    “有时候是的——不过不总是这样。一般是不会这样的。    我想我们是不是没找准地方。”    于是，他们又换了个新地方，开始挖起来。他们干得不快，但仍有所进步。他们坚持不懈，默默地干了一段时间。末了，哈克倚着铁锹，用袖子抹了把额头上豆大的汗珠，说道：    “挖完这个，你打算再到哪里去挖呢？”    “我想咱们也许可以到那儿去挖，卡第夫山上寡妇家后面的那棵老树下面挖。”    “那地方不错。不过，那寡妇会不会把咱们挖到的财宝据为己有呢，汤姆？那可是在她家的地上呀。”    “据为己有！说得倒轻松，叫她试试看。谁找到的宝藏，就该归谁，这与谁家的地没任何关系。”    这种说法令人满意。他们继续挖着。后来，哈克说：    “妈的，咱们准是又挖错了地方。你看呢？”    “这就怪了，哈克。我真搞不懂。有时候，巫婆会暗中捣鬼。我猜问题出在这儿。”    “胡说！巫婆白天是没有法力的。”    “对，这话不假。我没想到这一点。啊，我知道问题出在哪儿了！咱俩真是他妈的大傻瓜两个！你得搞清楚夜半时分，那个伸出的树杈影子落在什么地方，然后就在那里开挖才行呀！”    “可不是吗。真是的，我俩傻乎乎地白挖了一场。这事真该死，咱们得半夜三更跑到这儿来。路程可不近。你能溜出来吗？”    “我想我会出来。咱们今晚非来不可，因为要是给旁人看见这些坑坑洼洼，他们立刻就会知道这儿有什么，号上这块地方。”    “那么，我今晚就到你家附近学猫叫。”    “好吧。咱们把工具藏到矮树丛里。”    当夜，两个孩子果然如约而来。他们坐在树荫底下等着。这是个偏僻的地方，又值夜半，迷信的说法把这地方搞得阴森森的。沙沙作响的树叶像是鬼怪们在窃窃私语，暗影里不知有多少魂灵埋伏着，远处不时传来沉沉的狗吠，一只猫头鹰阴森地厉叫着。两个孩子给这种阴沉恐怖的气氛吓住了，他们很少讲话。后来，估模时间该到１２点钟了，他们就在树影垂落的地方作了记号，开始挖起来。他们的希望开始涨潮，兴致越来越高，干劲越来越大，坑越挖越深。每次他们听到镐碰到什么东西的声响，心都激动得怦怦狂跳，可每次又都免不了失望。原来那不过是碰到了一块石头或是一块木头。汤姆终于开口道：    “这样干还是不行，哈克，咱们又搞错了。”    “哎，怎么会呢。咱们在树影落下的地方作的记号，一点没错。”    “我知道，不过还有一点。”    “是什么？”    “唉，咱们只是在估摸时间。也可能太早了或太迟了。”    哈克把铁锹往地上一扔。    “对，”他说，“问题就出在这儿。咱们别挖这个坑了。咱们根本搞不准时间，而且这事太可怕了，半夜三更的，在这么个鬼蜮横流的地方。我老觉得背后有什么东西盯着我。我简直不敢回头；前面说不定也有什么怪物在等着害咱们呢。自打来到这地方，我就浑身直起鸡皮疙瘩。”    “唉，我也差不多有同感，哈克。他们在树下埋财宝的时候，通常还埋上一个死人来作看守。”    “天啊！”    “是真的。我常听人家这么说。”    “汤姆，我不喜欢在有死人的地方闲荡。否则一定会遇上麻烦的，肯定会的。”    “我也不想打扰他们。说不定这儿会有个死人伸出脑袋，开口说话呢！”    “别说了，汤姆！真恐怖。”    “嘿，可不是。哈克，我也觉得不对劲儿。”    “喂，汤姆，咱们还是别在这儿挖了，再到别处碰碰运气。”    “好吧，就这么办。”    “再到哪儿去挖呢？”    汤姆思忖了一会，然后说：    “到那间闹鬼的屋子里去挖。对，就这么办！”    “妈的，我也不喜欢闹鬼的屋子，汤姆。唉，那里比死人还可怕。也许死人会说话，可是他们不会趁你不注意，披着寿衣悄悄溜过来，猛地从你背后探出身来，龇牙咧嘴；但他们就爱这么干。我可吃不住这份惊吓，汤姆——没人吃得住。”    “是呀。不过，哈克，鬼怪只是在夜间才出来。咱们白天到那儿去挖，他们不会碍事的。”    “对，这话不错。可是你知道，不管是白天，还是夜里，都没人去那间鬼屋。”    “噢，这大概是因为他们不喜欢到一个出过人命案的地方去——可是，除了夜里，那所房子周围倒没谁看见过什么——夜里，只有些蓝光在窗户那儿飘来荡去——不是总有鬼。”    “哦，汤姆，你看到蓝光飘忽的地方，那后面一准跟着一个鬼。这是有道理的，因为你知道，除了鬼怪，没有什么人点蓝色的火光。”    “是呀，这话没错。不过，既然他们白天不会出来，咱们还怕什么呢？”    “唉，好吧。既然你这么说，咱们就去探探那间鬼屋——不过，我想我们只是在碰运气。”    这时候，他们已经动身往山下走。在他们下面的山谷中间，那间“鬼屋”，孤零零地立在月光底下，围墙早就没有了，    遍地杂草丛生，台阶半掩，烟囱倾坍，窗框空空荡荡，屋顶一个犄角也塌掉了。两个孩子瞪大眼睛看了一会，想见一见窗户边有蓝幽幽的火光飘过；在这种特定的氛围里他们压低了嗓音说着话，一边尽量靠右边走，远远躲开那间鬼屋，穿过卡第夫山后的树林，一路走回家去。
Chapter 26
ABOUT noon the next day the boys arrived at the dead tree; they had come for their tools. Tom was impatient to go to the haunted house; Huck was measurably so, also -- but suddenly said:
"Lookyhere, Tom, do you know what day it is?"
Tom mentally ran over the days of the week, and then quickly lifted his eyes with a startled look in them --
"My! I never once thought of it, Huck!"
"Well, I didn't neither, but all at once it popped onto me that it was Friday."
"Blame it, a body can't be too careful, Huck. We might 'a' got into an awful scrape, tackling such a thing on a Friday."
"~might! Better say we would! There's some lucky days, maybe, but Friday ain't."
"Any fool knows that. I don't reckon YOU was the first that found it out, Huck."
"Well, I never said I was, did I? And Friday ain't all, neither. I had a rotten bad dream last night -- dreampt about rats."
"No! Sure sign of trouble. Did they fight?"
"No."
"Well, that's good, Huck. When they don't fight it's only a sign that there's trouble around, you know. All we got to do is to look mighty sharp and keep out of it. We'll drop this thing for to-day, and play. Do you know Robin Hood, Huck?"
"No. Who's Robin Hood?"
"Why, he was one of the greatest men that was ever in England -- and the best. He was a robber."
"Cracky, I wisht I was. Who did he rob?"
"Only sheriffs and bishops and rich people and kings, and such like. But he never bothered the poor. He loved 'em. He always divided up with 'em perfectly square."
"Well, he must 'a' been a brick."
"I bet you he was, Huck. Oh, he was the noblest man that ever was. They ain't any such men now, I can tell you. He could lick any man in England, with one hand tied behind him; and he could take his yew bow and plug a ten-cent piece every time, a mile and a half."
"What's a yew bow?"
"I don't know. It's some kind of a bow, of course. And if he hit that dime only on the edge he would set down and cry – and curse. But we'll play Robin Hood -- it's nobby fun. I'll learn you."
"I'm agreed."
So they played Robin Hood all the afternoon, now and then casting a yearning eye down upon the haunted house and passing a remark about the morrow's prospects and possibilities there. As the sun began to sink into the west they took their way homeward athwart the long shadows of the trees and soon were buried from sight in the forests of Cardiff Hill.
On Saturday, shortly after noon, the boys were at the dead tree again. They had a smoke and a chat in the shade, and then dug a little in their last hole, not with great hope, but merely because Tom said there were so many cases where people had given up a treasure after getting down within six inches of it, and then somebody else had come along and turned it up with a single thrust of a shovel. The thing failed this time, however, so the boys shouldered their tools and went away feeling that they had not trifled with fortune, but had fulfilled all the requirements that belong to the business of treasure-hunting.
When they reached the haunted house there was something so weird and grisly about the dead silence that reigned there under the baking sun, and something so depressing about the loneliness and desolation of the place, that they were afraid, for a moment, to venture in. Then they crept to the door and took a trembling peep. They saw a weed-grown, floorless room, unplastered, an ancient fireplace, vacant windows, a ruinous staircase; and here, there, and everywhere hung ragged and abandoned cobwebs. They presently entered, softly, with quickened pulses, talking in whispers, ears alert to catch the slightest sound, and muscles tense and ready for instant retreat.
In a little while familiarity modified their fears and they gave the place a critical and interested examination, rather admiring their own boldness, and wondering at it, too. Next they wanted to look up-stairs. This was something like cutting off retreat, but they got to daring each other, and of course there could be but one result -- they threw their tools into a corner and made the ascent. Up there were the same signs of decay. In one corner they found a closet that promised mystery, but the promise was a fraud – there was nothing in it. Their courage was up now and well in hand. They were about to go down and begin work when --
"Sh!" said Tom.
"What is it?" whispered Huck, blanching with fright.
"Sh! ... There! ... Hear it?"
"Yes! ... Oh, my! Let's run!"
"Keep still! Don't you budge! They're coming right toward the door."
The boys stretched themselves upon the floor with their eyes to knot-holes in the planking, and lay waiting, in a misery of fear.
"They've stopped.... No -- coming.... Here they are. Don't whisper another word, Huck. My goodness, I wish I was out of this!"
Two men entered. Each boy said to himself: "There's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's been about town once or twice lately -- never saw t'other man before."
"T'other" was a ragged, unkempt creature, with nothing very pleasant in his face. The Spaniard was wrapped in a serape; he had bushy white whiskers; long white hair flowed from under his sombrero, and he wore green goggles. When they came in, "t'other" was talking in a low voice; they sat down on the ground, facing the door, with their backs to the wall, and the speaker continued his remarks. His manner became less guarded and his words more distinct as he proceeded:
"No," said he, "I've thought it all over, and I don't like it. It's dangerous."
"Dangerous!" grunted the "deaf and dumb" Spaniard -- to the vast surprise of the boys. "Milksop!"
This voice made the boys gasp and quake. It was Injun Joe's! There was silence for some time. Then Joe said:
"What's any more dangerous than that job up yonder -- but nothing's come of it."
"That's different. Away up the river so, and not another house about. 'Twon't ever be known that we tried, anyway, long as we didn't succeed."
"Well, what's more dangerous than coming here in the daytime! -- anybody would suspicion us that saw us."
"I know that. But there warn't any other place as handy after that fool of a job. I want to quit this shanty. I wanted to yesterday, only it warn't any use trying to stir out of here, with those infernal boys playing over there on the hill right in full view."
"Those infernal boys" quaked again under the inspiration of this remark, and thought how lucky it was that they had remembered it was Friday and concluded to wait a day. They wished in their hearts they had waited a year.
The two men got out some food and made a luncheon. After a long and thoughtful silence, Injun Joe said:
"Look here, lad -- you go back up the river where you belong. Wait there till you hear from me. I'll take the chances on dropping into this town just once more, for a look. We'll do that 'dangerous' job after I've spied around a little and think things look well for it. Then for Texas! We'll leg it together!"
This was satisfactory. Both men presently fell to yawning, and Injun Joe said:
"I'm dead for sleep! It's your turn to watch."
He curled down in the weeds and soon began to snore. His comrade stirred him once or twice and he became quiet. Presently the watcher began to nod; his head drooped lower and lower, both men began to snore now.
The boys drew a long, grateful breath. Tom whispered:
"Now's our chance -- come!"
Huck said:
"I can't -- I'd die if they was to wake."
Tom urged -- Huck held back. At last Tom rose slowly and softly, and started alone. But the first step he made wrung such a hideous creak from the crazy floor that he sank down almost dead with fright. He never made a second attempt. The boys lay there counting the dragging moments till it seemed to them that time must be done and eternity growing gray; and then they were grateful to note that at last the sun was setting.
Now one snore ceased. Injun Joe sat up, stared around -- smiled grimly upon his comrade, whose head was drooping upon his knees -- stirred him up with his foot and said:
"Here! you're a watchman, ain't you! All right, though -- nothing's happened."
"My! have I been asleep?"
"Oh, partly, partly. Nearly time for us to be moving, pard. What'll we do with what little swag we've got left?"
"I don't know -- leave it here as we've always done, I reckon. No use to take it away till we start south. Six hundred and fifty in silver's something to carry."
"Well -- all right -- it won't matter to come here once more."
"No -- but I'd say come in the night as we used to do -- it's better."
"Yes: but look here; it may be a good while before I get the right chance at that job; accidents might happen; 'tain't in such a very good place; we'll just regularly bury it -- and bury it deep."
"Good idea," said the comrade, who walked across the room, knelt down, raised one of the rearward hearthstones and took out a bag that jingled pleasantly. He subtracted from it twenty or thirty dollars for himself and as much for Injun Joe, and passed the bag to the latter, who was on his knees in the corner, now, digging with his bowie-knife.
The boys forgot all their fears, all their miseries in an instant. With gloating eyes they watched every movement. Luck! – the splendor of it was beyond all imagination! Six hundred dollars was money enough to make half a dozen boys rich! Here was treasure-hunting under the happiest auspices -- there would not be any bothersome uncertainty as to where to dig. They nudged each other every moment -- eloquent nudges and easily understood, for they simply meant -- "Oh, but ain't you glad NOW we're here!"
Joe's knife struck upon something.
"Hello!" said he.
"What is it?" said his comrade.
"Half-rotten plank -- no, it's a box, I believe. Here -- bear a hand and we'll see what it's here for. Never mind, I've broke a hole."
He reached his hand in and drew it out --
"Man, it's money!"
The two men examined the handful of coins. They were gold. The boys above were as excited as themselves, and as delighted.
Joe's comrade said:
"We'll make quick work of this. There's an old rusty pick over amongst the weeds in the corner the other side of the fireplace – I saw it a minute ago."
He ran and brought the boys' pick and shovel. Injun Joe took the pick, looked it over critically, shook his head, muttered something to himself, and then began to use it. The box was soon unearthed. It was not very large; it was iron bound and had been very strong before the slow years had injured it. The men contemplated the treasure awhile in blissful silence.
"Pard, there's thousands of dollars here," said Injun Joe.
"'Twas always said that Murrel's gang used to be around here one summer," the stranger observed.
"I know it," said Injun Joe; "and this looks like it, I should say."
"Now you won't need to do that job."
The half-breed frowned. Said he:
"You don't know me. Least you don't know all about that thing. 'Tain't robbery altogether -- it's revenge!" and a wicked light flamed in his eyes. "I'll need your help in it. When it's finished -- then Texas. Go home to your Nance and your kids, and stand by till you hear from me."
"Well -- if you say so; what'll we do with this -- bury it again?"
"Yes. [Ravishing delight overhead.] No! by the great Sachem, no! [Profound distress overhead.] I'd nearly forgot. That pick had fresh earth on it! [The boys were sick with terror in a moment.] What business has a pick and a shovel here? What business with fresh earth on them? Who brought them here -- and where are they gone? Have you heard anybody? -- seen anybody? What! bury it again and leave them to come and see the ground disturbed? Not exactly -- not exactly. We'll take it to my den."
"Why, of course! Might have thought of that before. You mean Number One?"
"No -- Number Two -- under the cross. The other place is bad -- too common."
"All right. It's nearly dark enough to start."
Injun Joe got up and went about from window to window cautiously peeping out. Presently he said:
"Who could have brought those tools here? Do you reckon they can be up-stairs?"
The boys' breath forsook them. Injun Joe put his hand on his knife, halted a moment, undecided, and then turned toward the stairway. The boys thought of the closet, but their strength was gone. The steps came creaking up the stairs -- the intolerable distress of the situation woke the stricken resolution of the lads -- they were about to spring for the closet, when there was a crash of rotten timbers and Injun Joe landed on the ground amid the débris of the ruined stairway. He gathered himself up cursing, and his comrade said:
"Now what's the use of all that? If it's anybody, and they're up there, let them stay there -- who cares? If they want to jump down, now, and get into trouble, who objects? It will be dark in fifteen minutes -- and then let them follow us if they want to. I'm willing. In my opinion, whoever hove those things in here caught a sight of us and took us for ghosts or devils or something. I'll bet they're running yet."
Joe grumbled awhile; then he agreed with his friend that what daylight was left ought to be economized in getting things ready for leaving. Shortly afterward they slipped out of the house in the deepening twilight, and moved toward the river with their precious box.
Tom and Huck rose up, weak but vastly relieved, and stared after them through the chinks between the logs of the house. Follow? Not they. They were content to reach ground again without broken necks, and take the townward track over the hill. They did not talk much. They were too much absorbed in hating themselves -- hating the ill luck that made them take the spade and the pick there. But for that, Injun Joe never would have suspected. He would have hidden the silver with the gold to wait there till his "revenge" was satisfied, and then he would have had the misfortune to find that money turn up missing. Bitter, bitter luck that the tools were ever brought there!
They resolved to keep a lookout for that Spaniard when he should come to town spying out for chances to do his revengeful job, and follow him to "Number Two," wherever that might be. Then a ghastly thought occurred to Tom.
"Revenge? What if he means us, Huck!"
"Oh, don't!" said Huck, nearly fainting.
They talked it all over, and as they entered town they agreed to believe that he might possibly mean somebody else -- at least that he might at least mean nobody but Tom, since only Tom had testified.
Very, very small comfort it was to Tom to be alone in danger! Company would be a palpable improvement, he thought.   第二十六章　真正的强盗找到了一箱金子 
    第二天大约在中午，这两个孩子到那棵枯树前来拿工具。汤姆急不可耐地要到那个闹鬼的屋子去；显然哈克也想去，可却突然说：“喂，我说汤姆，你知道今天是什么日子？”    汤姆脑子转了转，合计着日子，接着迅速地抬起眼睛，一副惊讶的表情。    “我的妈呀！哈克，我还没想到这一点呢！”    “哦，我也是的，不过，我刚才忽然想起今天是星期五。”（星期五是基督耶稣受难的日子，所以基督徒们认为它是个不吉利的日子。）    “真该死，哈克，得仔细点才行。我们在这个日子干这种事情，可能是自找麻烦。”    “你说可能。最好还是说一定！要是换成别的日子，说不定会有救，可是今天不成。”    “这连傻瓜都知道。不过，哈克，我想除你之外，还有别人明白这个理。”    “哼！我说过就我一人明白了吗？光星期五还不够。昨天夜里，我做了一个糟糕透顶的梦——梦见耗子了。”    “真是瞎胡闹！一准要倒霉了。它们打架了吗？”    “没有。”    “嗯，这还行。哈克，梦见耗子但没梦见它们打架，这说明要有麻烦事了。我们要特别、特别地小心，设法避开它就没事了，今天算了，去玩吧。哈克，你知道罗宾汉吗？”    “不知道。他是谁？”    “嘿，这你都不知道。他可是英国有史以来最伟大的人物之一，也是最好的一个。他是个强盗。”    “嗳哟，真了不起，我要也是就好了。他抢谁呢？”    “他劫富济贫，抢的都是郡长、主教、国王之类的富人。他不但不骚扰穷人，而且还跟他们平分抢来的东西。”    “嗯，他一定是个好汉。”    “那还用说，哈克。欧，他真了不起。我从来没见过这样高尚的人。我敢说现在没有这样的人了，我敢这么说。他一只手背在后面都能把任何人打倒。他要是拿起那把紫杉木弓，一英里半开外就能射中一角钱的分币，百发百中。”    “紫杉木弓是什么？”    “搞不清，就是一种弓吧。他如果没有打到十环的水平，那坐下来就哭——还要咒骂。得了，我们来演罗宾汉吧，它好玩极了。我来教你。”    “好的。”    他俩玩了一下午的罗宾汉游戏，边玩边忍不住不时地朝那座闹鬼的房子看上一两眼，三言两语地议论着第二天到那里去会发生的情况。太阳西沉时，他俩顺着长长的树影往家走去，不久就消失在卡第夫山的树林中。    星期六中午刚过不久，两个孩子又来到那棵死树旁。他俩先在树荫下抽了一会烟，聊了几句，然后又在剩下的一个洞里继续挖了几锹。当然这样做并非出于抱有多大的希望，只是因为汤姆说过有许多回挖宝的人离宝只有六寸，结果还是让别的人一锹就给挖走了。不过，这一次他俩没那么幸运，于是他们就扛起工具走了，他们很看重财宝，而且就挖宝而言，他们已尽了最大的努力。    片刻之后，他俩熟悉了这个地方，不再像刚进来时那样害怕了。于是，他们仔仔细细地审视了一番，既惊奇又十分佩服自己的胆量。接着，他们想上楼看看，这似乎是有点背水一战的意味，他俩得相互壮胆，于是他们把手中的家伙扔到墙角就上了楼。楼上的情景与楼下的一样破落。他们很快发现墙角处有个壁橱，好像里面有点看头，可结果是一无所有。这时的他们胆子大多了，勇气十足。正当他俩准备下楼动手时——    “嘘！”汤姆说。    “怎么回事？”哈克脸色吓得发白，悄悄地问道。    “嘘！……那边……你听见了吗？”    “听见了！……哦，天啊！我们快逃吧！”    “安静！别动！他们正朝门这边走来。”    两个孩子趴在楼板上，眼睛盯着木节孔，在等着，恐惧得要命。    “他们停下了。……不——又过来了……来了。哈克，别再出声，天哪，我要是不在这里就好了！”    进来了两个男人，两个孩子都低低自语道：“一个是那个又聋又哑的西班牙老头，近来在镇上露过一两次面，另一个是陌生人。”    “另一个人”衣衫褴褛，蓬头垢面，脸上表情令人难受；西班牙老头披一条墨西哥花围巾，脸上长着密密麻麻的白色络腮胡，头戴宽边帽，长长的白发垂下，鼻子上架一副绿眼镜。进屋后，“另一个人”低声说着什么，两人面对门，背朝墙，坐在地板上，“另一个人”继续说着，神情也不太紧张了，    话也越来越清楚：“不行，”他说，“我反复琢磨，我还是不想干，这事太危险。”    “危险！”那又聋又哑的西班牙人咕哝着说，“没出息！”两个孩子见此大吃一惊。    这个声音吓得两个孩子喘不过气来，直发抖，是印第安·乔的声音！沉默了一会，乔说：“我们在上面干的事够危险，    可并没有出差错。”    “那可不一样，那是在河上面，离得又很远，附近没有人家，我们试了没干成，这不会有人知道。”    “再说，哪里还有比大白天来这儿更危险的事呢？——谁看见都会起疑心。”    “这我知道。可是干了那傻事后，没有比这更方便的地方了。我也要离开这烂房子。昨天就想走，可是那两个可恶的小子在山上玩，他们看这里一清二楚，想溜是不可能的。”    “那两个可恶的小子”一听就明白了，因此抖个不停；想到他们等到周六再行动，觉得真是幸运，心里想，就是已等了一年，也心甘情愿。    那两个男人拿出些食品作午饭，印第安·乔仔细沉思了许久，最后说：“喂，小伙子，你回到你该去的河上面那边去，    等我的消息。我要进一趟城，去探探风声。等我觉得平安无事时，我们再去干那件危险的事情。完事就一起到得克萨斯州去！”    这倒令人满意，两人随即打了个呵欠，印第安·乔说：    “我困得要命！该轮到你望风了。”    他蜷着身子躺在草上，不一会儿就打起鼾来，同伴推了他一两次，他就不打鼾了。不久望风的也打起瞌睡，头越来越低，俩人呼呼打起鼾来。    两个孩子深深地吸了口气，真是谢天谢地。汤姆低声说：    “机会来了——快点！”    哈克说：“不行，要是他们醒来，我非死不可。”    汤姆催他走——哈克老是不敢动。结果汤姆慢慢站起身，轻轻地一人往外走。可他一迈步，那摇摇晃晃的破楼板就吱吱作响，吓得他立即趴下，像死了一样，他不敢再动一下，两个孩子躺在那里一分一秒地数着时间，似有度日如年之感，最后他俩觉得日子终于熬到了头，看到日落西山，心中充满感激之情。    这时有一人鼾声停了。印第安·乔坐起来，朝四周张望。同伴头垂到膝上，他冷冷地笑笑，用脚把他踹醒，然后对他说：    “喂，你就是这样望风的，幸亏没发生什么意外。”    “天哪，我睡过去了吗？”    “伙计，差不多，差不多，该开路了，剩下的那点油水怎么办？”    “像以前那样，把它留下，等往南方去的时候再捎上它。背着六百五十块银元走可不是件容易的事情。”    “好，再来一次也没什么关系。”    “不，得像以前一样，最好晚上来。”    “对，不过，干那事可能要等很长时间，弄不好会出差错，这地方并不绝对保险，我们干脆把它埋起来——埋得深深的。”    “说得妙，”同伴说道。他走到屋对面，膝盖顶地，取下一块后面的炉边石头，掏出一袋叮当响的袋子，自己拿出二三十美元，又给印第安·乔拿了那么多，然后把袋子递给乔，他正跪在角落边，用猎刀在挖东西。    两个孩子此刻把恐惧和不幸全抛到九霄云外。他们按住内心的喜悦，观察着他们的一举一动。运气！想都不敢想的好运气！六百块钱能让五六个孩子变成阔佬！真是找宝碰到好运气，不费吹灰之力，到那里一挖，准没错。他俩不时地同时彼此相互碰一碰，意思非常明了。“噢，现在你该高兴我们呆在这里是对的！”    乔的刀碰到了东西。    “喂！”他说。    “那是什么？”他的同伴问道。    “快要烂的木板——不，肯定是个箱子，帮帮忙，看看是作什么用的。不要紧，我已经把它给弄了个洞。”    他伸出手把箱子拽出来——    “伙计，是钱！”    两个男人仔细端详满手的钱币，是金币。上面的两个孩子也同他们一样地激动、高兴。    乔的同伴说：    “我们得快挖。我刚才看见壁炉那边拐角处的草堆中有把上锈的铁锹。”    他跑过去拿回两个孩子的工具：十字镐和铁锹，挑剔地看了一番，摇摇头，自言自语地咕哝了一两句，然后开始挖了起来。箱子很快被挖了出来，外面包着铁皮，不太大，经过岁月的侵蚀，现在没有以前牢固了。那两个男人对着宝箱，喜滋滋的，不言不语。    “伙计，箱子有一千块钱。”印第安·乔说道。“以前常听说，有年夏季莫列尔那帮人过这一带活动，”    陌生人说。    “这事我知道。”印第安·乔说，“我看，这倒有点像是那么回事。”    “现在你不用去干那活啦。”    混血儿皱起眉头。他说道：    “你不了解我，至少你不全知道那件事。那不完全是抢劫——那是复仇啊！”他眼里射出凶恶的光。“这事得你帮我，干完活就到得州去，回去看你老婆和孩子们，等我的消息。”    “好——如果是这样的，那么这箱金币怎么办？——再埋在这里？”    “对，（楼上高兴得欢天喜地。）不！好家伙！绝对不行！（楼上的情绪一落千丈。）我差点忘了，那把铁锹上还有新泥土呢！（两个孩子一听吓得要命。）这里要锹和镐头干什么？是谁拿来的？——人呢？听见有人吗？看见了吗？好家伙，还要把箱子埋起来，让他们回来好发现这里有人动过土？不行，这样不妥，我们把箱子拿到我那里去。”    “说得对呀，干吗不呢？早该想到这主意，你是说要拿到一号去？”    “不，是二号，十字架下面的，别的地方不行，没有特别的地方。”    “好，天快黑了，可以动身了。”    印第安·乔站起身来，在窗户间来回走动，小心地观察着外面的动静，随即他说道：    “谁会把锹和镐头拿到这里呢？你说楼上会不会有人？”    两个孩子被吓得大气不敢喘。印第安·乔手上拿着刀，站在那里，有点犹豫不决，片刻后他转身朝楼梯口走去，孩子们想起了壁橱，可现在却一点力气都没有。    脚步声吱吱嘎嘎地响着，上了楼梯，情况万分危急，危难时刻两个孩子坚定了决心——他俩刚准备跑到壁橱里，就听见哗地一声，印第安·乔连人带朽木板一下子掉到地上烂楼梯木头堆里。他边骂边站起来，这时他同伴说：    “骂有什么用，要是有人在楼上，就让他呆在上面吧，没人在乎，他们要是现在跳下来找岔，没人反对，一刻钟后天就黑了，愿跟就让他们跟踪好了。我愿意。我想，把东西扔在这里的人，一定看见了我们，以为我们是鬼，我敢打赌他们还在逃跑。”    乔咕哝了一阵，然后觉得同伴说得有道理，乘天黑之前，抓紧时间，收拾收拾东西好离开。随后他俩在渐渐沉下来的暮色中溜出去，带着宝箱往河那边走去。    汤姆和哈克站起来，虽然很乏，但现在舒服多了，他俩从房子的木条缝中盯着那两个人的背影。跟踪他们？他俩不行，从屋上平安下来没有扭伤脖子，再翻过山顺着小路返回城中，已经是不错的事情了。他俩没再多说，只是一个劲地埋怨自己，怪运气不好，才把那倒霉的锹和镐头带到这儿来。要不是这两样工具，印第安·乔决不会起疑心。他会把装金币的箱子藏在这里，然后去报仇，等回来后会伤心地发现东西不翼而飞。怎么想起来把工具带到这儿来呢，真是该死，倒霉透顶！    他们打定主意，等那个西班牙人进城刺探、伺机报仇时，一定要盯梢他，跟他到“二号”去，管他上天入地都要跟去。    突然一个可怕的念头出现在汤姆的脑海里。    “报仇？哈克，要是他们指的是我俩，那可怎么办？”    “噢，别讲了。”哈克说着，差点昏过去。    他俩仔细商量了一番，进城后权当他指的是另外的人，至少是指汤姆，因为只有汤姆在法庭上作过证。    汤姆一人陷入危险，确实让他感到不安，很有点不安。他想，要是有个同伴，多少要好受些。
Chapter 27
THE adventure of the day mightily tormented Tom's dreams that night. Four times he had his hands on that rich treasure and four times it wasted to nothingness in his fingers as sleep forsook him and wakefulness brought back the hard reality of his misfortune. As he lay in the early morning recalling the incidents of his great adventure, he noticed that they seemed curiously subdued and far away -- somewhat as if they had happened in another world, or in a time long gone by. Then it occurred to him that the great adventure itself must be a dream! There was one very strong argument in favor of this idea -- namely, that the quantity of coin he had seen was too vast to be real. He had never seen as much as fifty dollars in one mass before, and he was like all boys of his age and station in life, in that he imagined that all references to "hundreds" and "thousands" were mere fanciful forms of speech, and that no such sums really existed in the world. He never had supposed for a moment that so large a sum as a hundred dollars was to be found in actual money in any one's possession. If his notions of hidden treasure had been analyzed, they would have been found to consist of a handful of real dimes and a bushel of vague, splendid, ungraspable dollars.
But the incidents of his adventure grew sensibly sharper and clearer under the attrition of thinking them over, and so he presently found himself leaning to the impression that the thing might not have been a dream, after all. This uncertainty must be swept away. He would snatch a hurried breakfast and go and find Huck. Huck was sitting on the gunwale of a flatboat, listlessly dangling his feet in the water and looking very melancholy. Tom concluded to let Huck lead up to the subject. If he did not do it, then the adventure would be proved to have been only a dream.
"Hello, Huck!"
"Hello, yourself."
Silence, for a minute.
"Tom, if we'd 'a' left the blame tools at the dead tree, we'd 'a' got the money. Oh, ain't it awful!"
"'Tain't a dream, then, 'tain't a dream! Somehow I most wish it was. Dog'd if I don't, Huck."
"What ain't a dream?"
"Oh, that thing yesterday. I been half thinking it was."
"Dream! If them stairs hadn't broke down you'd 'a' seen how much dream it was! I've had dreams enough all night -- with that patch-eyed Spanish devil going for me all through 'em -- rot him!"
"No, not rot him. FIND him! Track the money!"
"Tom, we'll never find him. A feller don't have only one chance for such a pile -- and that one's lost. I'd feel mighty shaky if I was to see him, anyway."
"Well, so'd I; but I'd like to see him, anyway -- and track him out -- to his Number Two."
"Number Two -- yes, that's it. I been thinking 'bout that. But I can't make nothing out of it. What do you reckon it is?"
"I dono. It's too deep. Say, Huck -- maybe it's the number of a house!"
"Goody! ... No, Tom, that ain't it. If it is, it ain't in this one-horse town. They ain't no numbers here."
"Well, that's so. Lemme think a minute. Here -- it's the number of a room -- in a tavern, you know!"
"Oh, that's the trick! They ain't only two taverns. We can find out quick."
"You stay here, Huck, till I come."
Tom was off at once. He did not care to have Huck's company in public places. He was gone half an hour. He found that in the best tavern, No. 2 had long been occupied by a young lawyer, and was still so occupied. In the less ostentatious house, No. 2 was a mystery. The tavern-keeper's young son said it was kept locked all the time, and he never saw anybody go into it or come out of it except at night; he did not know any particular reason for this state of things; had had some little curiosity, but it was rather feeble; had made the most of the mystery by entertaining himself with the idea that that room was "ha'nted"; had noticed that there was a light in there the night before.
"That's what I've found out, Huck. I reckon that's the very No. 2 we're after."
"I reckon it is, Tom. Now what you going to do?"
"Lemme think."
Tom thought a long time. Then he said:
"I'll tell you. The back door of that No. 2 is the door that comes out into that little close alley between the tavern and the old rattle trap of a brick store. Now you get hold of all the door-keys you can find, and I'll nip all of auntie's, and the first dark night we'll go there and try 'em. And mind you, keep a lookout for Injun Joe, because he said he was going to drop into town and spy around once more for a chance to get his revenge. If you see him, you just follow him; and if he don't go to that No. 2, that ain't the place."
"Lordy, I don't want to foller him by myself!"
"Why, it'll be night, sure. He mightn't ever see you -- and if he did, maybe he'd never think anything."
"Well, if it's pretty dark I reckon I'll track him. I dono -- I dono. I'll try."
"You bet I'll follow him, if it's dark, Huck. Why, he might 'a' found out he couldn't get his revenge, and be going right after that money."
"It's so, Tom, it's so. I'll foller him; I will, by jingoes!"
"Now you're talking! Don't you ever weaken, Huck, and I won't."  
第二十七章　忐忑不安的跟踪
    那天晚上，汤姆一夜都没睡好，白天的历险也被带入梦乡。他梦中抓住了宝箱有四次，可是当睡梦消失，他醒后面对的还是那不幸的严酷现实：宝箱化为乌有，他仍是两手空空。一大早，他躺在那儿，回想着伟大的冒险经历，觉得那些事件越来越模糊，越来越远——有点像是在另一个世界里发生的，或者是很久很久以前发生过的事情。于是他突然意识到这次大冒险本身一定是一场梦！这种想法强有力的论点就是他见到的金币数量太多，不敢当真，以前他从没有一下子看过五十块。他和同年孩子们一样，认为什么几万元、成千上万元，只不过是谈谈而已，根本不存在这么大数目的钱。他一刻也没有认为，哪个人真拥有一百美元这样大数目的钱。如果分析一下，他认为埋藏的那部分财宝，只不过是一把真分币和一大堆可观不可及、光亮闪闪的块票而已。    可是他越想，冒险的事情就越历历在目，他倒觉得这也许不是梦，是真的。他一定要弄个水落石出，于是他三口两口吃完早饭后就去找哈克。    哈克坐在一条平底船的船舷上边，两只脚没精打采地放在水里，看上去忧心忡忡。汤姆决定让哈克先开口谈这个问题。他要是不提这事，那足以证明上次的冒险只是场梦。    “哈克，你好！”    “喂，你好。”    一阵沉默。    “汤姆，要是把那该死的工具放在枯树那边，我们就拿到钱了，唉，你说糟糕不糟糕！”    “不是梦，是真的喽！不知怎的，我倒希望它是个梦。骗人是小狗，哈克。”    “什么不是梦呀？”    “欧，就是昨天那件事，我刚才还半信半疑那是个梦。”    “梦！要不是那楼梯倒了，你会做更多的梦！我一夜梦得够多的，那个独眼的西班牙鬼子一直追着我——该死的家伙！”    “不不，不要咒他死，要找到活人！把钱追出来！”    “汤姆，我们不会找到他，人发财的机会又不多，而这次发大财的机会又错过了。不管怎么说，要是见到他，我非发抖不可。”    “对，我也会发抖，不过无论如何得见到他，就是到二号去也要把他挖出来。”    “二号，对，就是嘛，我也在想这事，可理不出头绪来，你有何高招？”    “我也不知道那是个什么地方。太难了，想不出来。哈克，那要么是门牌号码？”    “太对了！……不，汤姆，那不是门牌号，这个巴掌大的小镇，这城里就这么巴掌大一块，根本用不着什么门牌号。”“对，这话不假。让我再想想，这是房间号，是客栈里的，你知道吧。”    “噢，你说对了！这儿只有两家客栈，会弄明白的。”    “哈克，呆在这儿，等我回来。”    汤姆立刻出去了，他不喜欢在大众场合下和哈克在一块。他去了有半个小时，他发现在那家较好的客栈里，一个年青的律师长期住在二号，现在也没走。可是那家较差的客栈，二号却是个谜。客栈老板那年青的儿子说，二号一直锁着，除了晚上，从来没有人进出，他也不知道为什么会这样，只觉得略有点好奇，以那房子“闹鬼”为由来满足自己的好奇心。    他还曾注意到前天晚上，二号里有灯光。    “哈克，这就是我调查的结果。我想我们要找的就是这个二号。”    “我想是的，汤姆。你打算怎么办？”    “让我想想。”    想了很久之后，汤姆说：    “听着，二号后门通着客栈和旧轮窑厂之间的小窄巷子。你去把所有能找到的门钥匙全弄到手，我去偷姨妈的，等天一黑我们就去试门。提醒你注意印第安·乔的动静，他说过要溜回城里打探虚实以便伺机报复。你如果看见他，就跟踪他；他要不进二号，那就不是这个地方。”    “乖乖，一个人跟着他，我不干！”    “是晚上去，他肯定看不见你——就是看见了，也不会多想的。”    “好，如果确确实实是晚上去，我想我去，不过说不准，说不准，试试吧。”    “要是天黑的话，哈克，我准会跟着他。他也许看到复仇无望，不如去把钱先弄到手。”    “说得对，汤姆，说得对，我去盯着他，一定去，敲定了。”    “这才是好样的！别动摇呀，哈克，我是不会动摇的。” 
Chapter 28
THAT night Tom and Huck were ready for their adventure. They hung about the neighborhood of the tavern until after nine, one watching the alley at a distance and the other the tavern door. Nobody entered the alley or left it; nobody resembling the Spaniard entered or left the tavern door. The night promised to be a fair one; so Tom went home with the understanding that if a considerable degree of darkness came on, Huck was to come and "maow," whereupon he would slip out and try the keys. But the night remained clear, and Huck closed his watch and retired to bed in an empty sugar hogshead about twelve.
Tuesday the boys had the same ill luck. Also Wednesday. But Thursday night promised better. Tom slipped out in good season with his aunt's old tin lantern, and a large towel to blindfold it with. He hid the lantern in Huck's sugar hogshead and the watch began. An hour before midnight the tavern closed up and its lights (the only ones thereabouts) were put out. No Spaniard had been seen. Nobody had entered or left the alley. Everything was auspicious. The blackness of darkness reigned, the perfect stillness was interrupted only by occasional mutterings of distant thunder.
Tom got his lantern, lit it in the hogshead, wrapped it closely in the towel, and the two adventurers crept in the gloom toward the tavern. Huck stood sentry and Tom felt his way into the alley. Then there was a season of waiting anxiety that weighed upon Huck's spirits like a mountain. He began to wish he could see a flash from the lantern -- it would frighten him, but it would at least tell him that Tom was alive yet. It seemed hours since Tom had disappeared. Surely he must have fainted; maybe he was dead; maybe his heart had burst under terror and excitement. In his uneasiness Huck found himself drawing closer and closer to the alley; fearing all sorts of dreadful things, and momentarily expecting some catastrophe to happen that would take away his breath. There was not much to take away, for he seemed only able to inhale it by thimblefuls, and his heart would soon wear itself out, the way it was beating. Suddenly there was a flash of light and Tom came tearing by him: "Run!" said he; "run, for your life!"
He needn't have repeated it; once was enough; Huck was making thirty or forty miles an hour before the repetition was uttered. The boys never stopped till they reached the shed of a deserted slaughterhouse at the lower end of the village. Just as they got within its shelter the storm burst and the rain poured down. As soon as Tom got his breath he said:
"Huck, it was awful! I tried two of the keys, just as soft as I could; but they seemed to make such a power of racket that I couldn't hardly get my breath I was so scared. They wouldn't turn in the lock, either. Well, without noticing what I was doing, I took hold of the knob, and open comes the door! It warn't locked! I hopped in, and shook off the towel, and, great Caesar's ghost!"
"What! -- what'd you see, Tom?"
"Huck, I most stepped onto Injun Joe's hand!"
"No!"
"Yes! He was lying there, sound asleep on the floor, with his old patch on his eye and his arms spread out."
"Lordy, what did you do? Did he wake up?"
"No, never budged. Drunk, I reckon. I just grabbed that towel and started!"
"I'd never 'a' thought of the towel, I bet!"
"Well, I would. My aunt would make me mighty sick if I lost it."
"Say, Tom, did you see that box?"
"Huck, I didn't wait to look around. I didn't see the box, I didn't see the cross. I didn't see anything but a bottle and a tin cup on the floor by Injun Joe; yes, I saw two barrels and lots more bottles in the room. Don't you see, now, what's the matter with that ha'nted room?"
"How?"
"Why, it's ha'nted with whiskey! Maybe ALL the Temperance Taverns have got a ha'nted room, hey, Huck?"
"Well, I reckon maybe that's so. Who'd 'a' thought such a thing? But say, Tom, now's a mighty good time to get that box, if Injun Joe's drunk."
"It is, that! You try it!"
Huck shuddered.
"Well, no -- I reckon not."
"And I reckon not, Huck. Only one bottle alongside of Injun Joe ain't enough. If there'd been three, he'd be drunk enough and I'd do it."
There was a long pause for reflection, and then Tom said:
"Lookyhere, Huck, less not try that thing any more till we know Injun Joe's not in there. It's too scary. Now, if we watch every night, we'll be dead sure to see him go out, some time or other, and then we'll snatch that box quicker'n lightning."
"Well, I'm agreed. I'll watch the whole night long, and I'll do it every night, too, if you'll do the other part of the job."
"All right, I will. All you got to do is to trot up Hooper Street a block and maow -- and if I'm asleep, you throw some gravel at the window and that'll fetch me."
"Agreed, and good as wheat!"
"Now, Huck, the storm's over, and I'll go home. It'll begin to be daylight in a couple of hours. You go back and watch that long, will you?"
"I said I would, Tom, and I will. I'll ha'nt that tavern every night for a year! I'll sleep all day and I'll stand watch all night."
"That's all right. Now, where you going to sleep?"
"In Ben Rogers' hayloft. He lets me, and so does his pap's nigger man, Uncle Jake. I tote water for Uncle Jake whenever he wants me to, and any time I ask him he gives me a little something to eat if he can spare it. That's a mighty good nigger, Tom. He likes me, becuz I don't ever act as if I was above him. Sometime I've set right down and eat with him. But you needn't tell that. A body's got to do things when he's awful hungry he wouldn't want to do as a steady thing."
"Well, if I don't want you in the daytime, I'll let you sleep. I won't come bothering around. Any time you see something's up, in the night, just skip right around and maow."   第二十八章　巢穴追踪，汤姆发现新线索
    那天晚上汤姆和哈克作好准备去冒一次险。他俩在客栈周围转悠到９点后才开始行动。一个在老远处注视着小巷子，另外一个看客栈的门。巷子里没人来往，进出客栈的人，没有那个西班牙人的影子。晚上好像不太黑。汤姆回家前和哈克约定，如果夜色不错，哈克就出来学猫叫，汤姆听到后就溜出去用钥匙试开门。可是那晚天色明亮，哈克１２点左右结束望风，到空糖桶睡觉去了。    星期二，两个孩子遭了同样的歹运，星期三也是如此。到星期四晚上，天气有起色。汤姆提着姨妈那只洋铁旧灯笼，拿了一条遮灯光的大毛巾，乘机溜出去。他把灯笼藏在哈克的糖桶里，开始望风。午夜前一小时，客栈关了门，连那仅有的灯光也熄灭了。西班牙人没露面，巷子里也没人走动，一切平安无事。夜色深深，万籁俱静，远处偶尔传来一两声雷声。    汤姆拿起灯笼，在糖桶里点亮后用毛巾将它紧紧围住。夜幕中两个探险者蹑手蹑脚朝客栈走去。哈克放哨，汤姆摸着进了巷子。好一阵工夫，哈克焦急地等待着，心头好像压着座大山那样沉重。他希望能看到灯笼闪一下光，这虽然让他害怕，但它至少说明他还活着。汤姆好像走了有好几个小时似的。他一定是昏过去了，要么就是死了，或许因害怕和兴奋，心脏炸裂了。不安中，哈克已不知不觉地接近那条小巷，心里诚惶诚恐，时刻准备着意外不测的降临，一下子把他吓得憋过气去。事实上他已没有多少气了，他现在只能一点一点呼吸，这样下去不久就会心力衰竭。突然灯光一闪，只见汤姆狂奔着从他身边跑过。    “快逃！”他说，“快逃命！”    他不必再重说，一遍就够了，还没等汤姆再说下去，哈克的速度已达到每小时三四十里，他俩一口气跑到村头旧屠宰场的空木棚那里才停下来。他们刚到屋檐下，风暴就来了，接着大雨倾盆而下，汤姆一缓过气就说：    “哈克，真恐怖。我尽量轻地开门，试了两把钥匙，声音哗哗直响，吓得我气都喘不过来，钥匙也转不动了。后来，不知怎的我抓住门柄，结果门开了，门原来没上锁。我连忙跳进去，扯下灯笼上的毛巾，我的妈呀，我差点没被吓死。”    “是什么？——汤姆你看见了什么？”    “哈克，我差点正踩上印第安·乔的手！”    “不会的！”    “没错！他躺在那里，睡得很熟，眼睛上还贴着那块纱布，手臂摊开。”    “乖乖，你干了什么？他醒了吗？”    “没醒，连动也没动。我想，一定是喝醉酒了。我抓起毛巾就往外跑！”    “我要是你的话，连毛巾都不要了。”    “我不行。要是丢了毛巾，姨妈会让我好受的。”    “喂，汤姆，你见到那箱子了吗！”    “哈克，我哪有时间看呢，没看到箱子，也没见到十字，除印第安·乔身边的地上有一个瓶和一只洋铁杯之外，别的什么也没看见。对了，还看到屋里有两只酒桶和一堆瓶子，你明白了吧，哈克，你说说，那间闹鬼的房子到底怎么了？”    “怎么了？”    “闹鬼，闹的是酒鬼！也许所有的禁酒客栈都有个闹鬼的房间，喂，哈克，你说是不是？”    “嗯，我想你说得对。谁也想不到有这样的怪事？可话说回来了，汤姆，现在乘印第安·乔还醉着，正是拿箱子的好机会。”    “说的是！不过，你去试试！”    哈克吓得直打哆嗦。    “得了，不——我看不行。”    “我也觉得不行，哈克，一瓶酒是醉不倒印第安·乔的，他身边要是有三瓶，那他一定烂醉，我也敢去试一试。”    汤姆沉思了很久后才开口说：    “哈克，听着，只要印第安·乔一刻不走，我们就别试了。太吓人了。要是每天晚上都盯着点，我们肯定能看到他出来，无论何时，只要他一出来，我们就闪电般冲进去，抱着箱子就跑。”    “行，我赞成，我一夜看到亮，天天晚上看，你负责去抱箱子。”    “好，就这么定下来。你到琥珀街去，过一个街区，并学猫叫。要是我睡着了，就朝窗上扔个小石头，叫醒我。”    “没问题，太妙了！”    “哈克，风暴停了，我要回家去。再过一两个小时，天就亮了，你坚持看守这段时间，行吗？”    “我说过的就干，汤姆，我愿意干。我愿每晚去盯那客栈，盯一年都行，白天睡觉，晚上盯个整夜。”    “这就好，你打算睡在什么地方？”    “本·罗杰斯家的干草棚里。他让我睡，他爸爸用的那个黑人杰克叔也让我睡，只要杰克叔要我干，我就帮他提水。有吃的时候，我要，他就给我一点。他真是个好人，汤姆。他喜欢我，我对他从不摆臭架子，有时坐下来和他一起吃饭。不过不要跟别人讲。一个人饿的时候，就管不了那么多了。只要有吃，什么事都愿意干。”    “好，白天要是用不着你，你就睡觉，我不会来烦你。晚上如有事情，就赶快跑到附近，学声猫叫就行了。”
Chapter 29
THE first thing Tom heard on Friday morning was a glad piece of news -- Judge Thatcher's family had come back to town the night before. Both Injun Joe and the treasure sunk into secondary importance for a moment, and Becky took the chief place in the boy's interest. He saw her and they had an exhausting good time playing "hi-spy" and "gully-keeper" with a crowd of their schoolmates. The day was completed and crowned in a peculiarly satisfactory way: Becky teased her mother to appoint the next day for the long-promised and long-delayed picnic, and she consented. The child's delight was boundless; and Tom's not more moderate. The invitations were sent out before sunset, and straightway the young folks of the village were thrown into a fever of preparation and pleasurable anticipation. Tom's excitement enabled him to keep awake until a pretty late hour, and he had good hopes of hearing Huck's "maow," and of having his treasure to astonish Becky and the picnickers with, next day; but he was disappointed. No signal came that night.
Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o'clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher's, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferry-boat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was:
"You'll not get back till late. Perhaps you'd better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child."
"Then I'll stay with Susy Harper, mamma."
"Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don't be any trouble."
Presently, as they tripped along, Tom said to Becky:
"Say -- I'll tell you what we'll do. 'Stead of going to Joe Harper's we'll climb right up the hill and stop at the Widow Douglas'. She'll have ice-cream! She has it most every day -- dead loads of it. And she'll be awful glad to have us."
"Oh, that will be fun!"
Then Becky reflected a moment and said:
"But what will mamma say?"
"How'll she ever know?"
The girl turned the idea over in her mind, and said reluctantly:
"I reckon it's wrong -- but --"
"But shucks! Your mother won't know, and so what's the harm? All she wants is that you'll be safe; and I bet you she'd 'a' said go there if she'd 'a' thought of it. I know she would!"
The Widow Douglas' splendid hospitality was a tempting bait. It and Tom's persuasions presently carried the day. So it was decided to say nothing anybody about the night's programme. Presently it occurred to Tom that maybe Huck might come this very night and give the signal. The thought took a deal of the spirit out of his anticipations. Still he could not bear to give up the fun at Widow Douglas'. And why should he give it up, he reasoned -- the signal did not come the night before, so why should it be any more likely to come to-night? The sure fun of the evening outweighed the uncertain treasure; and, boy-like, he determined to yield to the stronger inclination and not allow himself to think of the box of money another time that day.
Three miles below town the ferryboat stopped at the mouth of a woody hollow and tied up. The crowd swarmed ashore and soon the forest distances and craggy heights echoed far and near with shoutings and laughter. All the different ways of getting hot and tired were gone through with, and by-and-by the rovers straggled back to camp fortified with responsible appetites, and then the destruction of the good things began. After the feast there was a refreshing season of rest and chat in the shade of spreading oaks. By-and-by somebody shouted:
"Who's ready for the cave?"
Everybody was. Bundles of candles were procured, and straightway there was a general scamper up the hill. The mouth of the cave was up the hillside -- an opening shaped like a letter A. Its massive oaken door stood unbarred. Within was a small chamber, chilly as an ice-house, and walled by Nature with solid limestone that was dewy with a cold sweat. It was romantic and mysterious to stand here in the deep gloom and look out upon the green valley shining in the sun. But the impressiveness of the situation quickly wore off, and the romping began again. The moment a candle was lighted there was a general rush upon the owner of it; a struggle and a gallant defence followed, but the candle was soon knocked down or blown out, and then there was a glad clamor of laughter and a new chase. But all things have an end. By-and-by the procession went filing down the steep descent of the main avenue, the flickering rank of lights dimly revealing the lofty walls of rock almost to their point of junction sixty feet overhead. This main avenue was not more than eight or ten feet wide. Every few steps other lofty and still narrower crevices branched from it on either hand -- for McDougal's cave was but a vast labyrinth of crooked aisles that ran into each other and out again and led nowhere. It was said that one might wander days and nights together through its intricate tangle of rifts and chasms, and never find the end of the cave; and that he might go down, and down, and still down, into the earth, and it was just the same -- labyrinth under labyrinth, and no end to any of them. No man "knew" the cave. That was an impossible thing. Most of the young men knew a portion of it, and it was not customary to venture much beyond this known portion. Tom Sawyer knew as much of the cave as any one.
The procession moved along the main avenue some three-quarters of a mile, and then groups and couples began to slip aside into branch avenues, fly along the dismal corridors, and take each other by surprise at points where the corridors joined again. Parties were able to elude each other for the space of half an hour without going beyond the "known" ground.
By-and-by, one group after another came straggling back to the mouth of the cave, panting, hilarious, smeared from head to foot with tallow drippings, daubed with clay, and entirely delighted with the success of the day. Then they were astonished to find that they had been taking no note of time and that night was about at hand. The clanging bell had been calling for half an hour. However, this sort of close to the day's adventures was romantic and therefore satisfactory. When the ferryboat with her wild freight pushed into the stream, nobody cared sixpence for the wasted time but the captain of the craft.
Huck was already upon his watch when the ferry-boat's lights went glinting past the wharf. He heard no noise on board, for the young people were as subdued and still as people usually are who are nearly tired to death. He wondered what boat it was, and why she did not stop at the wharf -- and then he dropped her out of his mind and put his attention upon his business. The night was growing cloudy and dark. Ten o'clock came, and the noise of vehicles ceased, scattered lights began to wink out, all straggling foot-passengers disappeared, the village betook itself to its slumbers and left the small watcher alone with the silence and the ghosts. Eleven o'clock came, and the tavern lights were put out; darkness everywhere, now. Huck waited what seemed a weary long time, but nothing happened. His faith was weakening. Was there any use? Was there really any use? Why not give it up and turn in?
A noise fell upon his ear. He was all attention in an instant. The alley door closed softly. He sprang to the corner of the brick store. The next moment two men brushed by him, and one seemed to have something under his arm. It must be that box! So they were going to remove the treasure. Why call Tom now? It would be absurd -- the men would get away with the box and never be found again. No, he would stick to their wake and follow them; he would trust to the darkness for security from discovery. So communing with himself, Huck stepped out and glided along behind the men, cat-like, with bare feet, allowing them to keep just far enough ahead not to be invisible.
They moved up the river street three blocks, then turned to the left up a cross-street. They went straight ahead, then, until they came to the path that led up Cardiff Hill; this they took. They passed by the old Welshman's house, half-way up the hill, without hesitating, and still climbed upward. Good, thought Huck, they will bury it in the old quarry. But they never stopped at the quarry. They passed on, up the summit. They plunged into the narrow path between the tall sumach bushes, and were at once hidden in the gloom. Huck closed up and shortened his distance, now, for they would never be able to see him. He trotted along awhile; then slackened his pace, fearing he was gaining too fast; moved on a piece, then stopped altogether; listened; no sound; none, save that he seemed to hear the beating of his own heart. The hooting of an owl came over the hill -- ominous sound! But no footsteps. Heavens, was everything lost! He was about to spring with winged feet, when a man cleared his throat not four feet from him! Huck's heart shot into his throat, but he swallowed it again; and then he stood there shaking as if a dozen agues had taken charge of him at once, and so weak that he thought he must surely fall to the ground. He knew where he was. He knew he was within five steps of the stile leading into Widow Douglas' grounds. Very well, he thought, let them bury it there; it won't be hard to find.
Now there was a voice -- a very low voice -- Injun Joe's:
"Damn her, maybe she's got company -- there's lights, late as it is."
"I can't see any."
This was that stranger's voice -- the stranger of the haunted house. A deadly chill went to Huck's heart -- this, then, was the "revenge" job! His thought was, to fly. Then he remembered that the Widow Douglas had been kind to him more than once, and maybe these men were going to murder her. He wished he dared venture to warn her; but he knew he didn't dare -- they might come and catch him. He thought all this and more in the moment that elapsed between the stranger's remark and Injun Joe's next -- which was --
"Because the bush is in your way. Now -- this way -- now you see, don't you?"
"Yes. Well, there IS company there, I reckon. Better give it up."
"Give it up, and I just leaving this country forever! Give it up and maybe never have another chance. I tell you again, as I've told you before, I don't care for her swag -- you may have it. But her husband was rough on me -- many times he was rough on me -- and mainly he was the justice of the peace that jugged me for a vagrant. And that ain't all. It ain't a millionth part of it! He had me horsewhipped! -- horsewhipped in front of the jail, like a nigger! -- with all the town looking on! horsewhipped! -- do you understand? He took advantage of me and died. But I'll take it out of her."
"Oh, don't kill her! Don't do that!"
"Kill? Who said anything about killing? I would kill him if he was here; but not her. When you want to get revenge on a woman you don't kill her -- bosh! you go for her looks. You slit her nostrils -- you notch her ears like a sow!"
"By God, that's --"
"Keep your opinion to yourself! It will be safest for you. I'll tie her to the bed. If she bleeds to death, is that my fault? I'll not cry, if she does. My friend, you'll help me in this thing -- for my sake -- that's why you're here -- I mightn't be able alone. If you flinch, I'll kill you. Do you understand that? And if I have to kill you, I'll kill her -- and then I reckon nobody'll ever know much about who done this business."
"Well, if it's got to be done, let's get at it. The quicker the better -- I'm all in a shiver."
"Do it now? And company there? Look here -- I'll get suspicious of you, first thing you know. No -- we'll wait till the lights are out -- there's no hurry."
Huck felt that a silence was going to ensue -- a thing still more awful than any amount of murderous talk; so he held his breath and stepped gingerly back; planted his foot carefully and firmly, after balancing, one-legged, in a precarious way and almost toppling over, first on one side and then on the other. He took another step back, with the same elaboration and the same risks; then another and another, and -- a twig snapped under his foot! His breath stopped and he listened. There was no sound -- the stillness was perfect. His gratitude was measureless. Now he turned in his tracks, between the walls of sumach bushes -- turned himself as carefully as if he were a ship -- and then stepped quickly but cautiously along. When he emerged at the quarry he felt secure, and so he picked up his nimble heels and flew. Down, down he sped, till he reached the Welshman's. He banged at the door, and presently the heads of the old man and his two stalwart sons were thrust from windows.
"What's the row there? Who's banging? What do you want?"
"Let me in -- quick! I'll tell everything."
"Why, who are you?"
"Huckleberry Finn -- quick, let me in!"
"Huckleberry Finn, indeed! It ain't a name to open many doors, I judge! But let him in, lads, and let's see what's the trouble."
"Please don't ever tell I told you," were Huck's first words when he got in. "Please don't -- I'd be killed, sure -- but the widow's been good friends to me sometimes, and I want to tell -- I will tell if you'll promise you won't ever say it was me."
"By George, he has got something to tell, or he wouldn't act so!" exclaimed the old man; "out with it and nobody here'll ever tell, lad."
Three minutes later the old man and his sons, well armed, were up the hill, and just entering the sumach path on tiptoe, their weapons in their hands. Huck accompanied them no further. He hid behind a great bowlder and fell to listening. There was a lagging, anxious silence, and then all of a sudden there was an explosion of firearms and a cry.
Huck waited for no particulars. He sprang away and sped down the hill as fast as his legs could carry him.  
第二十九章　哈克静心守夜，寡妇幸免遭难
    早期五早晨，汤姆听到的第一件事情是条好消息：撒切尔法官一家前天晚上又回到了城里。现在印第安·乔和那份财宝变得次要了，贝基吸引了这孩子的全部兴趣。他见到了她，俩人一起和一群同学捉迷藏，玩“守沟”游戏，痛快极了。这一天大家玩得特别痛快，另外还有一件事情特别令人愉快：贝基缠着她妈妈，要她答应第二天去野餐，因为她老早答应过的，可一直到现在都没有兑现。母亲同意了。孩子的欢乐无止无境，汤姆也大致如此，太阳没落山，请帖就送了出去，村里的年青人立即忙活起来，准备着，激动地等待着这一时刻的到来。汤姆也激动得很晚才睡着，他怀着极大的希望等着听哈克的“猫”叫，好在第二天野餐时拿出财宝给贝基和参加野餐的人一个惊喜，可他的如意算盘落了空，令他失望的是那天晚上根本没有任何“猫”叫声传来。早晨到了，１０点、１１点左右撒切尔法官家门口聚集了一群颠颠狂狂、闹闹哄哄的孩子们，全都准备好了就等出发。大人们照例不参加这样的野餐以免扫兴。因为有几个１８岁的姑娘和２３岁左右的小伙子加盟，所以孩子们在一起野餐不会出事的。这次他们租了那只老蒸汽渡船，随后欢乐的人群带着盛满吃的东西的篮子排着队走上大街。希德生病，没法和大家联欢，玛丽留在家中陪他玩。撒切尔夫人临走时最后对贝基说：    “孩子，要是很晚才回来，你不如到离码头很近的女孩家去住。”    “妈妈，那我就到苏珊·哈帕家去住。”    “行，到人家注意点，别调皮啊！”    他们走了，路上汤姆对贝基说：    “喂，告诉你，不要去乔·哈帕家，我们直接去爬山，到道格拉斯寡妇家歇脚。她有冰淇淋，几乎每天吃——多得不得了，我们去，她一准喜欢得要命。”    “噢，太有趣了！”    贝基又想了片刻后说：    “可不知妈妈会怎么想？”    “她不会知道的。”    她想了想，不情愿地说：    “我看这不好，不过……”    “不过个狗屁！你妈妈怎么知道？不会有事的。她只希望你平安无事，我敢打赌要是她想到这地方，一定早答应让你去了，我知道她会的！”    道格拉斯寡妇十分好客，弄得孩子们非常想去，再加上汤姆的巧言，事情终于这么定下来：他们不向任何人透露有关晚上的行动计划。汤姆又忽然想到哈克在今晚说不定会来，发出信号。想到这，他的劲头消了不少。更让他受不了的是放弃到道格拉斯寡妇家中去玩。为什么不去呢？他合计着——前天晚上没有信号，那么今晚怎么就偏偏可能有信号呢？财宝远在天边，而晚上的玩耍近在眼前。因此他决定大玩一场，等以后再抽时间去想宝箱的事情。    在离村镇三英里的地方，渡船在树木丛生的山谷口靠岸停泊。他们一窝蜂地涌上岸，不久树林中，高崖处到处都回荡着孩子们的欢歌笑语，什么能让他们汗流浃背，精疲力尽，他们就玩什么。渐渐地，那些乱跑的小家伙回到营地，味口大增，见到好吃的东西就饱餐一顿。饭后，他们在橡树荫下休息，边谈话边恢复体力，后来有人大喊：    “谁打算到洞里去玩？”    大家都准备去。一捆捆蜡烛拿了出来，大家立即欢快地开始爬山。洞口在山坡上——形状像大写的字母Ａ。巨大的橡木门没上门闩，里边有个小室，寒气逼人，四周是天然的石灰岩墙壁，上面水珠晶莹透亮。站在这黑暗的地方，看着阳光下绿莹莹的山谷真是既浪漫，又神秘。很快大家忘却这里的美景，又嘻闹起来，蜡烛一点亮，有些人扑上去就抢走，随后就是一阵英勇的你争我夺的自卫反击战，要不了多久蜡烛要么被打翻，要么就被吹灭，接着大家发出一阵哄笑，又开始新的追逐。可是凡事都有个完，随后大家一个接一个顺着主要通道的陡坡往下走，那一排烛光照得高耸的石壁模模糊糊，烛光几乎能达到头顶上六十英尺两壁相连的地方。这条主通道宽不过八到十英尺，每隔几步两旁就有高耸而又狭窄的通口叉出去，——因为麦克道格拉斯山洞是个通道交错的大迷宫，不知通往何处，有人说你在这错综复杂的裂口和崖缝中一连走上几昼夜都找不到山洞的尽头；你尽可以一直往下走，往深处里去，大迷宫套小迷宫，一个也走不到头。没有人真正熟悉这个山洞。要熟悉它是不可能的事情。大多数年青人都知道一点，但习惯上没人敢再往里边多跑一点，汤姆·索亚和别的人一样也不过只知道一点而已。    他们一行人沿主通道大约走了四分之三英里，然后三三两两、成群结伴钻进了叉道，奔跑在阴森的长廊里，在拐弯的地方时常彼此相互偷袭。小队的人可以互相闪避，半个小时内不会迷路。    渐渐地，一组组的人零星地回到洞口，喘着气，乐滋滋的，从头到脚，都是蜡烛油，身上蹭满了泥土，完全沉浸在一天的快乐之中，这时他们吃惊地发现光顾着玩，没注意时间，天马上就要黑了。钟已噹噹地敲了半个小时，这样结束一天的探险活动很浪漫，因此大家很满意。当渡船载着兴高采烈的游客启锚时，除船老大外，没人有浪费时间的感觉。    渡船的灯光一摇一闪从码头边经过时，哈克已经开始守夜了。他没听见船上有什么声音，那群年青人现在不声不响，好像累得要命。哈克不知道这是条什么船，随后他不再想船的事，专心致志于守夜。晚上起了云，天色越来越暗，１０点时，车辆的声音停止了，四处的灯火开始熄灭，行人也都散尽，整个村庄进入了梦乡，只有这个小家伙，独自一人空守寂寞，与魔鬼作伴。１１点钟，客栈也熄了灯，现在到处一片漆黑。哈克等了很长一段时间，等得乏人，可仍无动静，他开始动摇了，还守在这里有什么用呢？真有用吗？不如回去睡觉算了。    突然他听到了动静。他立即全神贯注地听着，小巷的门轻轻关上。他连跑带跳来到砖厂拐弯的地方，这时两个男人从他身边一掠而过，其中一人腋下挟着件东西，一定是宝箱！他们是在转移财宝啊！现在不能叫汤姆，否则太傻了，那两个人会逃跑。一旦跑了再也不要指望能找到他们。对，他要盯着他俩，跟在后边走，靠夜色来掩护自己。哈克心里边合计着，边光着脚溜出去，像猫似的跟在那两人后头，离得不远不近，始终保持着能看见他们就行了。    他们顺着沿河的街道走了三个街区后，向左转上了十字街，然后径直往前来到通向卡第夫山的那条小路。他们又上了这条路，经过半山腰的威尔斯曼的老房子，仍一直往上爬。好吧，哈克心里想，他们会把宝箱埋在石坑里。可那两个人却经过老石坑，爬上了山顶他们一头钻进了茂密的漆树之间的一条小路，一下子就消失在黑暗中。哈克靠上去缩短了距离，因为那两人现在绝不会看见他。他小跑一阵，担心跑得太快；然后又放慢脚步，他向前走了一段路后，就停下来，听一听，没声音；除他呼呼的心跳声音外，什么也听不到。山那边传来猫头鹰的叫声——不祥的声音！可是却没有脚步声。老天啊，什么都不见了！他正想拔脚去追，这时不到四英尺的地方，有个男人在清嗓子。哈克的心一下子跳到嗓子眼，他强忍着，站在那里好像打摆子似的直抖，直抖得要摔倒在地上。他知道他在什么地方。现在他在离道格拉斯寡妇家庭院的阶梯口不到五步远的地方。这很好，就让他们在这里埋宝吧，这里找起来不难。    一个声音传来，很低很低，是印第安·乔的声音：    “他妈的，她家里也许有人——这么晚还亮着灯。”    “我看不到有什么灯亮。”    这是那个陌生人的声音——那个闹鬼的房子里的陌生人。哈克的心一阵冰凉——那么这就是复仇！他这时的念头就是一溜烟地逃掉，他突然想起道格拉斯寡妇不止一次地待他很好，这两个家伙说不定想谋害她呢？他真希望自己有胆量去向她报个信，可他晓得他不敢那样做，因为那两个家伙可能会来把他逮住。这一切都在他脑子里飞逝即过，一切都发生在那陌生人和印第安·乔谈话的间隙。接着乔说：    “树丛挡住了你的视线，往这边看——这下该看见灯光了吧，对不对？”    “是的，看见了。我觉得确实有外人在那里，最好别干了吧。”    “别干了，那怎么行，再说我就要离开这个国家，一去不回头，如果放弃这次行动，下次连机会都没有了，我再说一遍，以前已经跟你说过了，我根本不希罕她那几个小钱，你把钱拿去得了。可她丈夫对我太刻薄了——他多次是那样凶我——就因为他是治安官，说我是流氓，还不止这些，我说的还不到他对我干的一百万分之一多。他让人用马鞭抽我，像打黑人那样，就在监狱的前面抽我，让我在全镇人面前示众！挨马鞭抽，你懂吗？他死了，倒便宜了他，不过他欠我的我一定要从他女人这里得回来。”    “啊，可别杀死她！别那么干！”    “杀人！谁说过要杀人？要是他在，我真要杀了他，可不是弄死她。想报复女人，用不着要她的命——那太蠢了，你只要毁她的容就行，你扯开她的鼻孔，把耳朵弄个裂口，让她看上去像个猪。”    “天哪，那可是……”    “收起你的高见！这样对你最保险。我把她绑在床上，如果她因流血过多而一命呜呼，那能怪我吗？就是她死了，我也不会落泪的。老兄，这事你得帮我——看在我的面子上——叫你来就是干这个——我一个人也许干不了。你要是缩头不干，我就宰了你，明白吗？要是非宰你不可，那我也要治死那个女人——这样一来，我想决不会有人知道这事是什么人干的。”    “好，该杀就杀吧，这就去干。越快越好，我浑身发抖。”    “现在下手？还有外人在也不怕？听着，你有点可疑，现在不行。得等里边的灯灭了才能动手——用不着这样急。”    哈克觉得随后会有一阵沉默，这种沉默要比任何口头上说说杀人还要可怕。因此他屏住呼吸，小心翼翼往后退。他每退一步，靠单腿用力，身子先往一边倾，然后又倾向另一边，有时差点栽倒，然后小心地站稳脚跟，接着以同样的方式，冒同样的危险再挪另一只脚，就这样左右轮换着往后退——突然一根小树枝啪地一声被踩断！他憋住气，听了听。没有异样的响声——只有绝对的安静。他感到谢天谢地，现在他退回到两堵墙似的绿树之间的小道上，转身时非常小心，好像是一艘船在调头——然后步伐敏捷而又谨慎地往回走去。到了石坑那边，他觉得安全了，拔腿就跑，一路飞奔。一直跑到威尔斯曼家门口才停下来。他怦怦地敲门，接着老人和他那两个健壮的儿子从窗户里探出头。    “怎么搞的？是谁在敲门？你想干什么？”    “开门让我进去——快点！我会全告诉你们。”    “嗯？你是谁？”    “哈克贝利·费恩——快点，让我进去！”    “确实是哈克贝利·费恩，不过，冲你这名字，不会有很多人家愿意开门。孩子们，我们快开门让他进来，看是什么麻烦的事情。”    “请别告诉别人说是我讲的，”哈克进门就说，“请您务必保密，否则人家一定会要我的命。那寡妇有时对我很好，我一定要讲出来，也愿意讲出来，您可千万不要对人说是我讲的。”    “哎呀，他确实有事情要讲，否则不会这样的！”老人大声说，“孩子，说出来吧，这儿没人会讲出去的。”    三分钟后，老人和他的儿子带好武器上了山。他们手里拿着武器，踮着脚进入了绿树成荫的那条小路。哈克跟他们只走到这里，就没再往前去。他躲在一块大圆石后面，静静地听着。经过一阵沉默，哈克等急了，突然传来爆炸声和喊声。    哈克不等了解详情，跳起来拼命地冲下山坡。
Chapter 30
AS the earliest suspicion of dawn appeared on Sunday morning, Huck came groping up the hill and rapped gently at the old Welshman's door. The inmates were asleep, but it was a sleep that was set on a hair-trigger, on account of the exciting episode of the night. A call came from a window:
"Who's there!"
Huck's scared voice answered in a low tone:
"Please let me in! It's only Huck Finn!"
"It's a name that can open this door night or day, lad! -- and welcome!"
These were strange words to the vagabond boy's ears, and the pleasantest he had ever heard. He could not recollect that the closing word had ever been applied in his case before. The door was quickly unlocked, and he entered. Huck was given a seat and the old man and his brace of tall sons speedily dressed themselves.
"Now, my boy, I hope you're good and hungry, because breakfast will be ready as soon as the sun's up, and we'll have a piping hot one, too -- make yourself easy about that! I and the boys hoped you'd turn up and stop here last night."
"I was awful scared," said Huck, "and I run. I took out when the pistols went off, and I didn't stop for three mile. I've come now becuz I wanted to know about it, you know; and I come before daylight becuz I didn't want to run across them devils, even if they was dead."
"Well, poor chap, you do look as if you'd had a hard night of it -- but there's a bed here for you when you've had your breakfast. No, they ain't dead, lad -- we are sorry enough for that. You see we knew right where to put our hands on them, by your description; so we crept along on tiptoe till we got within fifteen feet of them -- dark as a cellar that sumach path was -- and just then I found I was going to sneeze. It was the meanest kind of luck! I tried to keep it back, but no use -- 'twas bound to come, and it did come! I was in the lead with my pistol raised, and when the sneeze started those scoundrels a-rustling to get out of the path, I sung out, 'Fire boys!' and blazed away at the place where the rustling was. So did the boys. But they were off in a jiffy, those villains, and we after them, down through the woods. I judge we never touched them. They fired a shot apiece as they started, but their bullets whizzed by and didn't do us any harm. As soon as we lost the sound of their feet we quit chasing, and went down and stirred up the constables. They got a posse together, and went off to guard the river bank, and as soon as it is light the sheriff and a gang are going to beat up the woods. My boys will be with them presently. I wish we had some sort of description of those rascals -- 'twould help a good deal. But you couldn't see what they were like, in the dark, lad, I suppose?"
"Oh yes; I saw them down-town and follered them."
"Splendid! Describe them -- describe them, my boy!"
"One's the old deaf and dumb Spaniard that's ben around here once or twice, and t'other's a mean-looking, ragged --"
"That's enough, lad, we know the men! Happened on them in the woods back of the widow's one day, and they slunk away. Off with you, boys, and tell the sheriff -- get your breakfast to-morrow morning!"
The Welshman's sons departed at once. As they were leaving the room Huck sprang up and exclaimed:
"Oh, please don't tell ANYbody it was me that blowed on them! Oh, please!"
"All right if you say it, Huck, but you ought to have the credit of what you did."
"Oh no, no! Please don't tell!"
When the young men were gone, the old Welshman said:
"They won't tell -- and I won't. But why don't you want it known?"
Huck would not explain, further than to say that he already knew too much about one of those men and would not have the man know that he knew anything against him for the whole world -- he would be killed for knowing it, sure.
The old man promised secrecy once more, and said:
"How did you come to follow these fellows, lad? Were they looking suspicious?"
Huck was silent while he framed a duly cautious reply. Then he said:
"Well, you see, I'm a kind of a hard lot, -- least everybody says so, and I don't see nothing agin it -- and sometimes I can't sleep much, on account of thinking about it and sort of trying to strike out a new way of doing. That was the way of it last night. I couldn't sleep, and so I come along up-street 'bout midnight, a-turning it all over, and when I got to that old shackly brick store by the Temperance Tavern, I backed up agin the wall to have another think. Well, just then along comes these two chaps slipping along close by me, with something under their arm, and I reckoned they'd stole it. One was a-smoking, and t'other one wanted a light; so they stopped right before me and the cigars lit up their faces and I see that the big one was the deaf and dumb Spaniard, by his white whiskers and the patch on his eye, and t'other one was a rusty, ragged-looking devil."
"Could you see the rags by the light of the cigars?"
This staggered Huck for a moment. Then he said:
"Well, I don't know -- but somehow it seems as if I did."
"Then they went on, and you --"
"Follered 'em -- yes. That was it. I wanted to see what was up -- they sneaked along so. I dogged 'em to the widder's stile, and stood in the dark and heard the ragged one beg for the widder, and the Spaniard swear he'd spile her looks just as I told you and your two --"
"What! The DEAF AND DUMB man said all that!"
Huck had made another terrible mistake! He was trying his best to keep the old man from getting the faintest hint of who the Spaniard might be, and yet his tongue seemed determined to get him into trouble in spite of all he could do. He made several efforts to creep out of his scrape, but the old man's eye was upon him and he made blunder after blunder. Presently the Welshman said:
"My boy, don't be afraid of me. I wouldn't hurt a hair of your head for all the world. No -- I'd protect you -- I'd protect you. This Spaniard is not deaf and dumb; you've let that slip without intending it; you can't cover that up now. You know something about that Spaniard that you want to keep dark. Now trust me -- tell me what it is, and trust me -- I won't betray you."
Huck looked into the old man's honest eyes a moment, then bent over and whispered in his ear:
"'Tain't a Spaniard -- it's Injun Joe!"
The Welshman almost jumped out of his chair. In a moment he said:
"It's all plain enough, now. When you talked about notching ears and slitting noses I judged that that was your own embellishment, because white men don't take that sort of revenge. But an Injun! That's a different matter altogether."
During breakfast the talk went on, and in the course of it the old man said that the last thing which he and his sons had done, before going to bed, was to get a lantern and examine the stile and its vicinity for marks of blood. They found none, but captured a bulky bundle of --
"Of WHAT?"
If the words had been lightning they could not have leaped with a more stunning suddenness from Huck's blanched lips. His eyes were staring wide, now, and his breath suspended -- waiting for the answer. The Welshman started -- stared in return – three seconds -- five seconds -- ten -- then replied:
"Of burglar's tools. Why, what's the MATTER with you?"
Huck sank back, panting gently, but deeply, unutterably grateful. The Welshman eyed him gravely, curiously -- and presently said:
"Yes, burglar's tools. That appears to relieve you a good deal. But what did give you that turn? What were YOU expecting we'd found?"
Huck was in a close place -- the inquiring eye was upon him -- he would have given anything for material for a plausible answer -- nothing suggested itself -- the inquiring eye was boring deeper and deeper -- a senseless reply offered -- there was no time to weigh it, so at a venture he uttered it -- feebly:
"Sunday-school books, maybe."
Poor Huck was too distressed to smile, but the old man laughed loud and joyously, shook up the details of his anatomy from head to foot, and ended by saying that such a laugh was money in a-man's pocket, because it cut down the doctor's bill like everything. Then he added:
"Poor old chap, you're white and jaded -- you ain't well a bit -- no wonder you're a little flighty and off your balance. But you'll come out of it. Rest and sleep will fetch you out all right, I hope."
Huck was irritated to think he had been such a goose and betrayed such a suspicious excitement, for he had dropped the idea that the parcel brought from the tavern was the treasure, as soon as he had heard the talk at the widow's stile. He had only thought it was not the treasure, however -- he had not known that it wasn't -- and so the suggestion of a captured bundle was too much for his self-possession. But on the whole he felt glad the little episode had happened, for now he knew beyond all question that that bundle was not THE bundle, and so his mind was at rest and exceedingly comfortable. In fact, everything seemed to be drifting just in the right direction, now; the treasure must be still in No. 2, the men would be captured and jailed that day, and he and Tom could seize the gold that night without any trouble or any fear of interruption.
Just as breakfast was completed there was a knock at the door. Huck jumped for a hiding-place, for he had no mind to be connected even remotely with the late event. The Welshman admitted several ladies and gentlemen, among them the Widow Douglas, and noticed that groups of citizens were climbing up the hill -- to stare at the stile. So the news had spread. The Welshman had to tell the story of the night to the visitors. The widow's gratitude for her preservation was outspoken.
"Don't say a word about it, madam. There's another that you're more beholden to than you are to me and my boys, maybe, but he don't allow me to tell his name. We wouldn't have been there but for him."
Of course this excited a curiosity so vast that it almost belittled the main matter -- but the Welshman allowed it to eat into the vitals of his visitors, and through them be transmitted to the whole town, for he refused to part with his secret. When all else had been learned, the widow said:
"I went to sleep reading in bed and slept straight through all that noise. Why didn't you come and wake me?"
"We judged it warn't worth while. Those fellows warn't likely to come again -- they hadn't any tools left to work with, and what was the use of waking you up and scaring you to death? My three negro men stood guard at your house all the rest of the night. They've just come back."
More visitors came, and the story had to be told and retold for a couple of hours more.
There was no Sabbath-school during day-school vacation, but everybody was early at church. The stirring event was well canvassed. News came that not a sign of the two villains had been yet discovered. When the sermon was finished, Judge Thatcher's wife dropped alongside of Mrs. Harper as she moved down the aisle with the crowd and said:
"Is my Becky going to sleep all day? I just expected she would be tired to death."
"Your Becky?"
"Yes," with a startled look -- "didn't she stay with you last night?"
"Why, no."
Mrs. Thatcher turned pale, and sank into a pew, just as Aunt Polly, talking briskly with a friend, passed by. Aunt Polly said:
"Good-morning, Mrs. Thatcher. Good-morning, Mrs. Harper. I've got a boy that's turned up missing. I reckon my Tom stayed at your house last night -- one of you. And now he's afraid to come to church. I've got to settle with him."
Mrs. Thatcher shook her head feebly and turned paler than ever.
"He didn't stay with us," said Mrs. Harper, beginning to look uneasy. A marked anxiety came into Aunt Polly's face.
"Joe Harper, have you seen my Tom this morning?"
"No'm."
"When did you see him last?"
Joe tried to remember, but was not sure he could say. The people had stopped moving out of church. Whispers passed along, and a boding uneasiness took possession of every countenance. Children were anxiously questioned, and young teachers. They all said they had not noticed whether Tom and Becky were on board the ferryboat on the homeward trip; it was dark; no one thought of inquiring if any one was missing. One young man finally blurted out his fear that they were still in the cave! Mrs. Thatcher swooned away. Aunt Polly fell to crying and wringing her hands.
The alarm swept from lip to lip, from group to group, from street to street, and within five minutes the bells were wildly clanging and the whole town was up! The Cardiff Hill episode sank into instant insignificance, the burglars were forgotten, horses were saddled, skiffs were manned, the ferryboat ordered out, and before the horror was half an hour old, two hundred men were pouring down highroad and river toward the cave.
All the long afternoon the village seemed empty and dead. Many women visited Aunt Polly and Mrs. Thatcher and tried to comfort them. They cried with them, too, and that was still better than words. All the tedious night the town waited for news; but when the morning dawned at last, all the word that came was, "Send more candles -- and send food." Mrs. Thatcher was almost crazed; and Aunt Polly, also. Judge Thatcher sent messages of hope and encouragement from the cave, but they conveyed no real cheer.
The old Welshman came home toward daylight, spattered with candle-grease, smeared with clay, and almost worn out. He found Huck still in the bed that had been provided for him, and delirious with fever. The physicians were all at the cave, so the Widow Douglas came and took charge of the patient. She said she would do her best by him, because, whether he was good, bad, or indifferent, he was the Lord's, and nothing that was the Lord's was a thing to be neglected. The Welshman said Huck had good spots in him, and the widow said:
"You can depend on it. That's the Lord's mark. He don't leave it off. He never does. Puts it somewhere on every creature that comes from his hands."
Early in the forenoon parties of jaded men began to straggle into the village, but the strongest of the citizens continued searching. All the news that could be gained was that remotenesses of the cavern were being ransacked that had never been visited before; that every corner and crevice was going to be thoroughly searched; that wherever one wandered through the maze of passages, lights were to be seen flitting hither and thither in the distance, and shoutings and pistol-shots sent their hollow reverberations to the ear down the sombre aisles. In one place, far from the section usually traversed by tourists, the names "BECKY & TOM" had been found traced upon the rocky wall with candle-smoke, and near at hand a grease-soiled bit of ribbon. Mrs. Thatcher recognized the ribbon and cried over it. She said it was the last relic she should ever have of her child; and that no other memorial of her could ever be so precious, because this one parted latest from the living body before the awful death came. Some said that now and then, in the cave, a far-away speck of light would glimmer, and then a glorious shout would burst forth and a score of men go trooping down the echoing aisle -- and then a sickening disappointment always followed; the children were not there; it was only a searcher's light.
Three dreadful days and nights dragged their tedious hours along, and the village sank into a hopeless stupor. No one had heart for anything. The accidental discovery, just made, that the proprietor of the Temperance Tavern kept liquor on his premises, scarcely fluttered the public pulse, tremendous as the fact was. In a lucid interval, Huck feebly led up to the subject of taverns, and finally asked -- dimly dreading the worst -- if anything had been discovered at the Temperance Tavern since he had been ill.
"Yes," said the widow.
Huck started up in bed, wild-eyed:
"What? What was it?"
"Liquor! -- and the place has been shut up. Lie down, child -- what a turn you did give me!"
"Only tell me just one thing -- only just one -- please! Was it Tom Sawyer that found it?"
The widow burst into tears. "Hush, hush, child, hush! I've told you before, you must not talk. You are very, very sick!"
Then nothing but liquor had been found; there would have been a great powwow if it had been the gold. So the treasure was gone forever -- gone forever! But what could she be crying about? Curious that she should cry.
These thoughts worked their dim way through Huck's mind, and under the weariness they gave him he fell asleep. The widow said to herself:
"There -- he's asleep, poor wreck. Tom Sawyer find it! Pity but somebody could find Tom Sawyer! Ah, there ain't many left, now, that's got hope enough, or strength enough, either, to go on searching."  
第三十章　汤姆和贝基山洞被困 
    星期天早上天刚刚有点蒙蒙亮，哈克就摸上山，轻轻地敲着老威尔斯曼家的门。里面的人还在睡觉，可是由于夜里那桩惊人的事情，大家变得十分警惕，窗户里传出了一句问话：    “是谁呀？”    哈克有点惊魂未定低声答道：    “请让我进去吧！是哈克·费恩呀！”    “哦，是你呀，只要你来，白天、黑夜都欢迎你！”    这个流浪儿以前从没听过这样的话，这也是他有生以来听到的最快乐的话。他想不起来以前有没有人对他说过“欢迎”一词。门锁很快打开了，他走了进去。主人让哈克坐下，老人和两个大高个孩子很快穿好衣服。    “喂，好家伙，我想你一定饿极了。太阳一出来，早饭就好了，咱们可以吃上一顿热气腾腾的饭，你尽管放心吧！我和孩子们指望你昨晚到我的家来过夜呢。”    “我吓得不得了，”哈克说，“我跑了，一听见枪响我就跑了。一口气跑出去有三英里。你瞧，我回来是想问问情况，乘天没大亮来是怕碰上那两个鬼东西，死也不愿碰上。”    “嗯，可怜虫，看上去昨晚的事情确实让你受了不少苦——吃完早饭后，这里有张床铺，你可以睡上一觉。那两个家伙还没死，孩子，真不随人愿。你瞧，我们照你说的，知道该在什么地方对他们下手，所以我们踮着脚走到离他们只有十五英尺的地方——可那绿树丛黑的像个地窟——而这时我觉得要打喷嚏，真是倒霉透了！我想憋住，可不管事，结果打了个喷嚏！我是端着枪走在头里的，我惊动了那两个坏蛋，他们沙沙地钻出小路往外走，我大声说，‘孩子们，开火！’    对着沙沙声的地方就放了一阵子枪，孩子们也开了枪，可那两个恶棍却溜了，我们穿过树林一直追过去，我想我们根本没打着他们。他们跑的时候也都放了枪，子弹从我们身边嗖嗖地飞过去却没有伤着我们。他们跑远了，我们就没有再追上去，只是下山去叫醒了警官。他们调集了一队人马，部署在河岸上，担任守卫工作。等天亮后，警长还亲自带一帮人到森林去搜查。我的两个儿子也要跟他们一起去搜查。我很想知道那两个家伙是什么模样，这样搜查起来要好办些。可是孩子，我想晚上天黑你也没看清他们长相，对吗？”    “不，我在镇上见过他俩，还跟踪过他们。”    “太棒了！说说看——孩子——说出他们的特征来！”    “一个是又聋又哑的西班牙人，有一两次他来过这里，另外一个长相难看，衣衫褴褛——”    “孩子，这就够了，我们认识那两个家伙。有一次在寡妇家后面的树林中碰到过，他们却偷偷溜掉了。快去吧，孩子们，去告诉警长——明天早晨再吃早饭吧！”    威尔斯曼的两个孩子立即动身出发。他们走出屋子时，哈克跳起来，大声说道：    “喂，请你们千万别对任何人讲是我走漏的风声！啊，千万千万不要说是我！”    “好，你不让说，就不说，可你总该让人家知道你的功劳呀！”    “不不不，请不要讲！”    两个年青人走后，威尔斯曼老人说：    “他们不会说出去，我也不会的。可你为什么不愿让人知道呢？”    哈克没别的理由，他只是说他认识其中一人，不想让那人知道是他本人在和他作对，否则肯定要送命的。    老人再次表示要替他保守秘密，说道：    “孩子，你怎么会盯梢他俩呢？是不是他们可疑？”    哈克没作声，心里却在精心编造，好回答他提出的问题。    他说：    “您瞧，我是个无可救药的坏家伙，至少大伙是这么说我的，我也不觉得委屈——有时为了想这个问题，好改一改自己，结果弄得睡也睡不着，昨天晚上就是这样。我睡不着，大约午夜时来到街上，想着这件事，后来走到禁酒的客栈旁那个老砖厂时，我就靠在墙上又在想这桩事情。嘿，真巧这时那两个家伙悄悄从我身边溜过，腋下夹着东西，我想一定是偷来的。一个家伙抽着烟，另外一个要接火。他俩就停在我前边不远，雪茄烟的火光照亮了他们的脸。借着火光，我认出了那个长白胡子、眼睛上戴着眼罩的家伙是又聋又哑的西班牙人，另外一个家伙，有点迂腐，衣衫褴褛。”    “雪茄的火光能让你看清他衣衫褴褛吗？”    这一问倒一下子难住了哈克。过了片刻后，他又说：    “嗯，这不太清楚——不过我好像是看清了。”    “然后他们继续往前走，而你——”    “对，跟在他们后面，是这样的，我想知道他们要干什么坏事——他们那样偷偷摸摸的，实在有点不对劲。我一直跟到寡妇家院子的阶梯那里，站在黑暗里听见一个人在替寡妇求饶，可那西班牙佬发誓破她的相，就像我告诉您和您那两个……”    “什么，这些是那个又聋又哑的西班牙人说的！”    哈克又犯了一个大错误！他一直不想让老人知道——哪怕是一点点——西班牙人的情况，尽管他十分小心，可那张舌头就是不听话，似乎有意给他添麻烦，他几次都想摆脱窘境，可老人盯着他，结果弄得他一次又一次露了马脚。随后老人说：    “孩子，别怕我。我不会伤害你一根头毛。相反我要保护你。这个西班牙人既不聋也不哑，你无意中说了出来，现在瞒也来不及了。你了解那个西班牙人的一些情况，你想隐瞒？相信我——告诉我吧！请相信我——我不会翻脸不认人的。”    哈克看了看老人那双真诚的眼睛，过了片刻弯过身去，对着老人低声耳语道：    “那不是西班牙人，是印第安·乔啊！”    威尔斯曼听后差点从椅子上跳起来，片刻后他说：    “现在事情全明白了。你当时说什么撕开鼻子，把耳朵弄个缺口之类的事情，我当时还以为是你自己故意编出来的，白人们报仇不会这样做的。可这事是涉及到印第安·乔，那就完全不同了。”    吃早饭时，他俩继续谈论那事，谈话中老人说上床睡觉前，他和儿子们做的第一件事情是提着灯到阶梯附近看看有没有血迹，结果血迹没看见，倒找到了一大捆子——。    “一捆什么？”    这几个字，就像闪电一般快地从哈克嘴中突然脱口而出，他显得很吃惊，嘴唇发白。他眼睛瞪得溜溜圆，张着口在等回答。威尔斯曼吃了一惊——瞪着哈克——三秒——五秒——十秒——然后答道：    “是强盗作案工具。唉，你怎么了？”    哈克一下子放松下来，微微喘着气，有一种说不出的如释重负感，威尔斯曼严肃地看着他，显得迷惑不解，然后接着说：    “是啊，那是捆强盗作案的工具。你好像放心多了。可你刚才怎么突然变了色！你以为我们找到了什么？”    哈克被逼问得够呛——老人用质疑的眼光盯着他——他真愿用一切来换一个似乎能站住脚的答复——可就是想不出来怎么说好——质疑的眼睛盯得他入骨三分——他不知不觉地想出了理由——这由不得他再三斟酌。于是，他硬着头皮，捏着嗓子说：    “主日学校用的教材，也许是的。”    可怜的哈克显得十分难过的样子，不苟言笑，可老人却开怀大笑，笑得浑身上下直发抖。最后，他还说这种大笑就等于到手的钱，因为笑口常开无病无灾。他接着补充道：    “可怜的小伙子，你脸色发白，气色不正，怪不得，你有点发飘，站不稳。不过会好起来的，我想你只要休息休息，睡睡觉，就好了。”    哈克一想到自己是只笨鹅，激动得差点露出马脚，他不免有些懊恼。自他在寡妇家的阶梯处听到那两个家伙说话后，就不再认为从客栈中拿出来的包裹里有财宝。不过这只是他的猜想，可他并不晓得——里面确实没有财宝——结果在老人提及一捆东西时，他就沉不住气了。不管怎么说，他还是挺高兴的，至少他现在知道“这捆”毫无疑问不是他要的“那捆”，这下他心里十分高兴，舒服极了。实际情况也都在朝他希望的方向发展。那财宝一定还在二号里，那两个家伙当天会被捉住，关到牢里去，而他和汤姆晚上会不费吹灰之力，就弄到那些金子，根本用不着担心会有人来打搅。    早饭刚吃完，就有人来敲门。哈克跳起来找藏身的地方。他不想让任何别的人把他和最近发生的事情联系起来。威尔斯曼让几个女士和绅士进了门，道格拉斯寡妇也来了。老人还看见有一群人正在往山上爬——以便好看清楚那阶梯，原来人们已经知道这事了。    老人只好把晚上发生过的情况向在坐的人讲了一遍。寡妇因免遭迫害，也痛痛快快地把她的感激之情说了出来。“夫人，别提这事了，还有一个人比我和孩子们做得更多，更值得你感谢。不过他有言在先，不让我说出他的名子，要不是他，我们不会到你那里去。”    大家的好奇心一下子转到了这方面，但老人守口如瓶，只让大家牢牢地记住这事，再由他们传遍全城，可就不说出这人是谁。寡妇知道了一切后说：    “我上床睡觉，在床上看书，外面吵吵闹闹我却睡着了。你们怎么不来把我叫醒？”    “我们觉得没那必要，那些家伙不可能再回来，——他们没了作案工具。叫醒你，把你吓个半死又何必呢？后来我派了三个家奴守着你的房子，一直守到天亮。他们刚才回来。”来的人越来越多，老人一遍又一遍地对大家讲晚上发生的事情，花了有两个多小时才算结束。    走读学校放假，主日学校也不上课，可是去教堂的人却很早就到了。那桩惊人的事情已经是满城风雨。有消息说，那两个坏蛋现在连影子都见不着。做完布道，法官撒切尔的夫人同哈泼夫人一道随着人群顺着过道往外走，边走边说：    “我那贝基难道要睡一整天不成？我料到她累得要命。”    “你的贝基？”    “对呀，”法官太太看上去很吃惊，“昨晚她不是和你住在一起的吗？”    “和我住的，不，没有。”    撒切尔太太脸色发白，瘫坐在一把椅子上。这时波莉姨妈从她身旁走过，愉快地边走边和朋友聊着。    波莉姨妈说：    “早晨好，撒切尔太太，早晨好，哈帕太太，我家那个鬼小子人不见了。我想我那个汤姆昨晚住在你们家中——不知是在你们哪一家。他现在不敢来教堂做礼拜。我得和他算帐。”    “他没在我们这儿住过。”哈帕说着，看上去显得有些不安，波莉姨妈脸上明显地露出了焦虑的神色。    “乔·哈帕，你早上看到我家汤姆了吗？”    “没有，大婶。”    “什么时候你最后见过他？”    乔竭力在想，可说不准。往教堂外走的人现在都停下了脚步。到处窃窃私语，人人脸上露出不祥的焦虑。大人们迫不及待地询问孩子们和老师们。他们都不敢肯定汤姆和贝基是否上了回程的船；当时天黑，没人想到问一问人是否全到齐了。有个年青人突然说他们仍在山洞里，撒切尔夫人当即晕了过去，波莉姨妈捶胸顿足地放声大哭。    这个惊人的消息一传十，十传百，弄得大街小巷家喻户晓，不到五分钟的工夫，大钟疯了似地噹噹直响，全镇的人都行动起来。卡第夫山事件随即显得没有多大意义，盗贼的事也摆到了一边去。大家套上马鞍，给小船配好划手，叫渡船出发，不到半个时辰，全镇就有二百多个人潮水般顺着公路和河流向山洞涌去。    那天下午，林子里好像什么也没有，一片沉寂。许多妇女去看波莉姨妈和撒切尔夫人，想安慰她俩，结果大家一齐骂个不停，这要比安慰人的话更顶用。这一夜全镇显得十分沉闷，大家都在等消息；但当黎明最后来临时，所有的消息都是一句话：“再送些蜡烛去——送些吃的。”    撒切尔夫人几乎神经失常，还有波莉姨妈也是。撒切尔法官从洞中派人传来令人鼓舞的好消息，可这一点也不能引起大家的兴致。天快亮时老威尔斯曼回了家，他浑身滴满蜡烛油，蹭满泥土，差点累得精疲力竭。他看见哈克仍睡在那张床上，烧得昏过去。医生们都去了山洞，因此道格拉斯寡妇来负责照看他。她说她对他一定会尽全力，哈克是好孩子还是坏孩子，或者不好不坏，那是另一回事，但他属于上帝，上帝的任何东西都应该受到重视。威尔斯曼说哈克有优点，寡妇说：    “的确如此，那就是上帝给他留下的记号，上帝从没有放弃给人留下良好的记号，凡经他手的人，都有良好记号。”    还没到下午，三三两两的人拖着疲惫的身体回到林里，那些身强力壮的人还在山洞里搜索。传来的消息只是说以前山洞里没人去过的地方，现在大家都在搜，就连一个角落，一处裂隙都要彻底地过一遍，错综复杂的迷宫中人们钻来钻去，老远就能看见到处灯光摇曳，喊声、枪声回荡在阴森可怖的通道里。有个地方，一般游客很少去，人们发现贝基和汤姆的名字用蜡烛烟熏在石壁上，不远处还有一截油乎乎的发带，撒切尔夫人认出这是贝基的东西，痛哭流涕。她说这是她女儿留给她的最后一点遗物，再也没有什么别的想头比这更宝贵，因为当那可怕的死亡降临时，这件东西最后离开她的孩子。有人说洞里远处的地方不时有微光闪动，然后就是大喊大叫声，接着一二十个男人排着队钻进声音荡漾的通道——结果照例是空欢喜一场，孩子并不在那里，亮光原来来自搜寻人的灯光。    漫长的三天三夜过去了，令人焦虑，令人乏味，全村陷入绝望，茫然不知所措。没有心情干别的事，就连碰巧发现禁酒客栈老板私自藏酒这样令人震惊的事情，众人们几乎都没劲头。哈克清醒的时候，断断续续地把话题扯到客栈上，最后问道——心里隐约觉得会有最坏的事情——他发病期间，在禁酒客栈里是否找到了什么。    “没错，是找到了点东西。”寡妇道。    哈克一下子从床上吃惊地坐起来，眼睛睁得溜圆。    “是什么？找到了什么东西？”    “是酒啊！——现在客栈被查封了。躺下来，孩子——你确实吓了我一大跳呀！”    “就告诉我一桩事——就一桩事，求您了！那是汤姆·索亚发现的吗？”    寡妇突然哭起来。“安静点，安静点，孩子，安静点！我早就跟你说过了，不要讲话，你现在病得很厉害，很虚弱！”    除酒之外，没发现别的东西。如果找到的是黄金的话，大家准会大谈特谈。足见那财宝是永远找不到了——永远找不到了！可是她为什么会哭呢？她居然哭，真是不可思议。    哈克迷迷糊糊地想着这些问题，感到十分疲倦，就睡着了。寡妇自言自语道：    “唉，他终于睡了，可怜的孩子。是汤姆·索亚找到的！可遗憾的是没人能找到汤姆·索亚！更糟的是没有几个人还抱有希望或有力气去继续寻找他。”
Chapter 31
NOW to return to Tom and Becky's share in the picnic. They tripped along the murky aisles with the rest of the company, visiting the familiar wonders of the cave -- wonders dubbed with rather over-descriptive names, such as "The Drawing-Room," "The Cathedral," "Aladdin's Palace," and so on. Presently the hide-and-seek frolicking began, and Tom and Becky engaged in it with zeal until the exertion began to grow a trifle wearisome; then they wandered down a sinuous avenue holding their candles aloft and reading the tangled web-work of names, dates, post-office addresses, and mottoes with which the rocky walls had been frescoed (in candle-smoke). Still drifting along and talking, they scarcely noticed that they were now in a part of the cave whose walls were not frescoed. They smoked their own names under an overhanging shelf and moved on. Presently they came to a place where a little stream of water, trickling over a ledge and carrying a limestone sediment with it, had, in the slow-dragging ages, formed a laced and ruffled Niagara in gleaming and imperishable stone. Tom squeezed his small body behind it in order to illuminate it for Becky's gratification. He found that it curtained a sort of steep natural stairway which was enclosed between narrow walls, and at once the ambition to be a discoverer seized him. Becky responded to his call, and they made a smoke-mark for future guidance, and started upon their quest. They wound this way and that, far down into the secret depths of the cave, made another mark, and branched off in search of novelties to tell the upper world about. In one place they found a spacious cavern, from whose ceiling depended a multitude of shining stalactites of the length and circumference of a man's leg; they walked all about it, wondering and admiring, and presently left it by one of the numerous passages that opened into it. This shortly brought them to a bewitching spring, whose basin was incrusted with a frostwork of glittering crystals; it was in the midst of a cavern whose walls were supported by many fantastic pillars which had been formed by the joining of great stalactites and stalagmites together, the result of the ceaseless water-drip of centuries. Under the roof vast knots of bats had packed themselves together, thousands in a bunch; the lights disturbed the creatures and they came flocking down by hundreds, squeaking and darting furiously at the candles. Tom knew their ways and the danger of this sort of conduct. He seized Becky's hand and hurried her into the first corridor that offered; and none too soon, for a bat struck Becky's light out with its wing while she was passing out of the cavern. The bats chased the children a good distance; but the fugitives plunged into every new passage that offered, and at last got rid of the perilous things. Tom found a subterranean lake, shortly, which stretched its dim length away until its shape was lost in the shadows. He wanted to explore its borders, but concluded that it would be best to sit down and rest awhile, first. Now, for the first time, the deep stillness of the place laid a clammy hand upon the spirits of the children. Becky said:
"Why, I didn't notice, but it seems ever so long since I heard any of the others."
"Come to think, Becky, we are away down below them -- and I don't know how far away north, or south, or east, or whichever it is. We couldn't hear them here."
Becky grew apprehensive.
"I wonder how long we've been down here, Tom? We better start back."
"Yes, I reckon we better. P'raps we better."
"Can you find the way, Tom? It's all a mixed-up crookedness to me."
"I reckon I could find it -- but then the bats. If they put our candles out it will be an awful fix. Let's try some other way, so as not to go through there."
"Well. But I hope we won't get lost. It would be so awful!" and the girl shuddered at the thought of the dreadful possibilities.
They started through a corridor, and traversed it in silence a long way, glancing at each new opening, to see if there was anything familiar about the look of it; but they were all strange. Every time Tom made an examination, Becky would watch his face for an encouraging sign, and he would say cheerily:
"Oh, it's all right. This ain't the one, but we'll come to it right away!"
But he felt less and less hopeful with each failure, and presently began to turn off into diverging avenues at sheer random, in desperate hope of finding the one that was wanted. He still said it was "all right," but there was such a leaden dread at his heart that the words had lost their ring and sounded just as if he had said, "All is lost!" Becky clung to his side in an anguish of fear, and tried hard to keep back the tears, but they would come. At last she said:
"Oh, Tom, never mind the bats, let's go back that way! We seem to get worse and worse off all the time."
"Listen!" said he.
Profound silence; silence so deep that even their breathings were conspicuous in the hush. Tom shouted. The call went echoing down the empty aisles and died out in the distance in a faint sound that resembled a ripple of mocking laughter.
"Oh, don't do it again, Tom, it is too horrid," said Becky.
"It is horrid, but I better, Becky; they might hear us, you know," and he shouted again.
The "might" was even a chillier horror than the ghostly laughter, it so confessed a perishing hope. The children stood still and listened; but there was no result. Tom turned upon the back track at once, and hurried his steps. It was but a little while before a certain indecision in his manner revealed another fearful fact to Becky -- he could not find his way back!
"Oh, Tom, you didn't make any marks!"
"Becky, I was such a fool! Such a fool! I never thought we might want to come back! No -- I can't find the way. It's all mixed up."
"Tom, Tom, we're lost! we're lost! We never can get out of this awful place! Oh, why DID we ever leave the others!"
She sank to the ground and burst into such a frenzy of crying that Tom was appalled with the idea that she might die, or lose her reason. He sat down by her and put his arms around her; she buried her face in his bosom, she clung to him, she poured out her terrors, her unavailing regrets, and the far echoes turned them all to jeering laughter. Tom begged her to pluck up hope again, and she said she could not. He fell to blaming and abusing himself for getting her into this miserable situation; this had a better effect. She said she would try to hope again, she would get up and follow wherever he might lead if only he would not talk like that any more. For he was no more to blame than she, she said.
So they moved on again -- aimlessly -- simply at random -- all they could do was to move, keep moving. For a little while, hope made a show of reviving -- not with any reason to back it, but only because it is its nature to revive when the spring has not been taken out of it by age and familiarity with failure.
By-and-by Tom took Becky's candle and blew it out. This economy meant so much! Words were not needed. Becky understood, and her hope died again. She knew that Tom had a whole candle and three or four pieces in his pockets -- yet he must economize.
By-and-by, fatigue began to assert its claims; the children tried to pay attention, for it was dreadful to think of sitting down when time was grown to be so precious, moving, in some direction, in any direction, was at least progress and might bear fruit; but to sit down was to invite death and shorten its pursuit.
At last Becky's frail limbs refused to carry her farther. She sat down. Tom rested with her, and they talked of home, and the friends there, and the comfortable beds and, above all, the light! Becky cried, and Tom tried to think of some way of comforting her, but all his encouragements were grown threadbare with use, and sounded like sarcasms. Fatigue bore so heavily upon Becky that she drowsed off to sleep. Tom was grateful. He sat looking into her drawn face and saw it grow smooth and natural under the influence of pleasant dreams; and by-and-by a smile dawned and rested there. The peaceful face reflected somewhat of peace and healing into his own spirit, and his thoughts wandered away to bygone times and dreamy memories. While he was deep in his musings, Becky woke up with a breezy little laugh -- but it was stricken dead upon her lips, and a groan followed it.
"Oh, how could! I sleep! I wish I never, never had waked! No! No, I don't, Tom! Don't look so! I won't say it again."
"I'm glad you've slept, Becky; you'll feel rested, now, and we'll find the way out."
"We can try, Tom; but I've seen such a beautiful country in my dream. I reckon we are going there."
"Maybe not, maybe not. Cheer up, Becky, and let's go on trying."
They rose up and wandered along, hand in hand and hopeless. They tried to estimate how long they had been in the cave, but all they knew was that it seemed days and weeks, and yet it was plain that this could not be, for their candles were not gone yet. A long time after this -- they could not tell how long -- Tom said they must go softly and listen for dripping water -- they must find a spring. They found one presently, and Tom said it was time to rest again. Both were cruelly tired, yet Becky said she thought she could go a little farther. She was surprised to hear Tom dissent. She could not understand it. They sat down, and Tom fastened his candle to the wall in front of them with some clay. Thought was soon busy; nothing was said for some time. Then Becky broke the silence:
"Tom, I am so hungry!"
Tom took something out of his pocket.
"Do you remember this?" said he.
Becky almost smiled.
"It's our wedding-cake, Tom."
"Yes -- I wish it was as big as a barrel, for it's all we've got."
"I saved it from the picnic for us to dream on, Tom, the way grown-up people do with wedding-cake -- but it'll be our --"
She dropped the sentence where it was. Tom divided the cake and Becky ate with good appetite, while Tom nibbled at his moiety. There was abundance of cold water to finish the feast with. By-and-by Becky suggested that they move on again. Tom was silent a moment. Then he said:
"Becky, can you bear it if I tell you something?"
Becky's face paled, but she thought she could.
"Well, then, Becky, we must stay here, where there's water to drink. That little piece is our last candle!"
Becky gave loose to tears and wailings. Tom did what he could to comfort her, but with little effect. At length Becky said:
"Tom!"
"Well, Becky?"
"They'll miss us and hunt for us!"
"Yes, they will! Certainly they will!"
"Maybe they're hunting for us now, Tom."
"Why, I reckon maybe they are. I hope they are."
"When would they miss us, Tom?"
"When they get back to the boat, I reckon."
"Tom, it might be dark then -- would they notice we hadn't come?"
"I don't know. But anyway, your mother would miss you as soon as they got home."
A frightened look in Becky's face brought Tom to his senses and he saw that he had made a blunder. Becky was not to have gone home that night! The children became silent and thoughtful. In a moment a new burst of grief from Becky showed Tom that the thing in his mind had struck hers also -- that the Sabbath morning might be half spent before Mrs. Thatcher discovered that Becky was not at Mrs. Harper's.
The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away; saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last; saw the feeble flame rise and fall, climb the thin column of smoke, linger at its top a moment, and then – the horror of utter darkness reigned!
How long afterward it was that Becky came to a slow consciousness that she was crying in Tom's arms, neither could tell. All that they knew was, that after what seemed a mighty stretch of time, both awoke out of a dead stupor of sleep and resumed their miseries once more. Tom said it might be Sunday, now -- maybe Monday. He tried to get Becky to talk, but her sorrows were too oppressive, all her hopes were gone. Tom said that they must have been missed long ago, and no doubt the search was going on. He would shout and maybe some one would come. He tried it; but in the darkness the distant echoes sounded so hideously that he tried it no more.
The hours wasted away, and hunger came to torment the captives again. A portion of Tom's half of the cake was left; they divided and ate it. But they seemed hungrier than before. The poor morsel of food only whetted desire.
By-and-by Tom said:
"Sh! Did you hear that?"
Both held their breath and listened. There was a sound like the faintest, far-off shout. Instantly Tom answered it, and leading Becky by the hand, started groping down the corridor in its direction. Presently he listened again; again the sound was heard, and apparently a little nearer.
"It's them!" said Tom; "they're coming! Come along, Becky -- we're all right now!"
The joy of the prisoners was almost overwhelming. Their speed was slow, however, because pitfalls were somewhat common, and had to be guarded against. They shortly came to one and had to stop. It might be three feet deep, it might be a hundred -- there was no passing it at any rate. Tom got down on his breast and reached as far down as he could. No bottom. They must stay there and wait until the searchers came. They listened; evidently the distant shoutings were growing more distant! a moment or two more and they had gone altogether. The heart-sinking misery of it! Tom whooped until he was hoarse, but it was of no use. He talked hopefully to Becky; but an age of anxious waiting passed and no sounds came again.
The children groped their way back to the spring. The weary time dragged on; they slept again, and awoke famished and woe-stricken. Tom believed it must be Tuesday by this time.
Now an idea struck him. There were some side passages near at hand. It would be better to explore some of these than bear the weight of the heavy time in idleness. He took a kite-line from his pocket, tied it to a projection, and he and Becky started, Tom in the lead, unwinding the line as he groped along. At the end of twenty steps the corridor ended in a "jumping-off place." Tom got down on his knees and felt below, and then as far around the corner as he could reach with his hands conveniently; he made an effort to stretch yet a little farther to the right, and at that moment, not twenty yards away, a human hand, holding a candle, appeared from behind a rock! Tom lifted up a glorious shout, and instantly that hand was followed by the body it belonged to -- Injun Joe's! Tom was paralyzed; he could not move. He was vastly gratified the next moment, to see the "Spaniard" take to his heels and get himself out of sight. Tom wondered that Joe had not recognized his voice and come over and killed him for testifying in court. But the echoes must have disguised the voice. Without doubt, that was it, he reasoned. Tom's fright weakened every muscle in his body. He said to himself that if he had strength enough to get back to the spring he would stay there, and nothing should tempt him to run the risk of meeting Injun Joe again. He was careful to keep from Becky what it was he had seen. He told her he had only shouted "for luck."
But hunger and wretchedness rise superior to fears in the long run. Another tedious wait at the spring and another long sleep brought changes. The children awoke tortured with a raging hunger. Tom believed that it must be Wednesday or Thursday or even Friday or Saturday, now, and that the search had been given over. He proposed to explore another passage. He felt willing to risk Injun Joe and all other terrors. But Becky was very weak. She had sunk into a dreary apathy and would not be roused. She said she would wait, now, where she was, and die -- it would not be long. She told Tom to go with the kite-line and explore if he chose; but she implored him to come back every little while and speak to her; and she made him promise that when the awful time came, he would stay by her and hold her hand until all was over.
Tom kissed her, with a choking sensation in his throat, and made a show of being confident of finding the searchers or an escape from the cave; then he took the kite-line in his hand and went groping down one of the passages on his hands and knees, distressed with hunger and sick with bodings of coming doom.  
第三十一章　得而复失
    现在再回过头来说说汤姆和贝基参加野餐的情况。他们跟伙伴们一起穿行在黑暗的通道里，游览那些熟悉的洞中奇观——人们给它们起了些过于夸张的名子，诸如什么“客厅”、“大教堂”、“阿拉丁宫殿”等等。在这之后，他们开始玩捉迷藏游戏，玩得极其投入，一直玩到都有点厌烦了为止；然后他俩高举蜡烛，顺着一条弯曲的小路往前逛，边走边念着用蜡烛烟油刻写在石壁上面的名字、年月、通讯地址和格言之类的东西。他俩仍然边走边谈着，不知不觉地来到了另一个山洞。这里的墙上没有刻写字迹。在一块突出的岩石上面，他俩熏上自己名字后继续往前走去。不久，他们来到一个地方，那里有股溪流从突出的岩层上流下来，水里有石灰石沉渣，经年累月形成了瀑布一般的景观。它四周好像嵌着边，起伏不平，水中的石头晶莹闪亮，永不消失。汤姆挤到后边，好让贝基借着他的灯光看个够。他发现后面狭缝中有条陡峭的天然台阶，汤姆一下心血来潮，要去继续探险。贝基听他的，于是俩人熏了个记号，作为以后引路标志，就开始了探险。他俩一时这边走，一时那边走，就这样蜿蜒着进了以前没有人到过的洞中最深处，作了个记号后，又沿着叉道走下去以便出去后有新鲜事儿好跟人说。在一处，他们发现一个宽敞的石窟，上面垂下来一些人腿大小的钟乳石，他们在里面转了一圈，惊叹不已，然后从其中的一个出口离开了。不久他们就到了一个美妙的泉水旁，水底下石头形似雪花状玲珑剔透，泉水位于石窟中间，四周石壁全由形状奇特的柱子撑着，这些石柱是大钟乳石和大石笋相连而构成的，是千万年来水滴不息的结果。石窟上聚集着成群结队的蝙蝠，每一群都有上千上万只。灯光一照，数以千计的蝙蝠飞下来，尖叫着向蜡烛猛扑过去。汤姆知道它们的习惯和危险性，他拉着她钻到最近的一个通道里。这一招做得真好，因为贝基往外走时，手里的蜡烛正巧被一只蝙蝠给扑灭了。蝙蝠把他俩追出老远的一段距离。两个逃亡者只要看到通道就往里钻，最后终于摆脱了险境，把它们抛在后面。不久汤姆发现了地下湖，它渐渐地伸展，最后消失在黑暗中，他打算沿着岸去探个究竟，可转而一想还是坐下来先歇一会为妙。这时，平生第一次两个孩子感到这寂静的山洞里好像有冰冷的魔掌攫取了他俩的灵魂。贝基说：    “对了，我倒没留意。不过好像很长时间都没听到别的同伴的声音了。”    “想想看，贝基，我们现在离他们很远，钻到洞下面来了。我也不知道向北还是向南、向东或是什么方向跑了多远，我们在这个地方听不见他们。”    贝基开始担心起来。    “我不知道我们呆在这里有多久了，汤姆，我们还是回去吧！”    “对，我也是这样想的，也许还是回去的好。”    “你认识路，汤姆？这里弯弯曲曲，乱七八糟。”    “我想我能认识路——可是那些蝙蝠很讨厌。要是它们把我俩的蜡烛扑灭，那就更糟了。我们不妨从别的路走，避开那个地方。”    “行是行，不过但愿别再迷了路。真是要命！”小姑娘一想到前途未卜，不禁打了个寒颤。    他们钻进一条长廊，不声不响地走了老远，边走边看新出口，看看跟进来时的是否一样。可是没一个出口是原来的。汤姆每次认真查看新洞口，贝基就望着他的脸看是否有希望的表情，汤姆则愉快地说：    “噢，没什么大不了的，这不是的，不过我们会找到出口。”可是一次又一次的失败使汤姆感到希望越来越渺茫，随后他干脆见到出口就钻，拼命希望能找到来时的那个出口，嘴上仍说着“没什么大不了的，”心情却十分沉重，连说出来的话都失去了响声，听上去好像是“没救了！”贝基极度痛苦地紧跟在汤姆身旁，竭力想止住眼泪，可是眼泪还是流出来。她终于说：    “对了，汤姆，别管那些蝙蝠吧，还回到那条路上去！看样子，我们越走越不对劲。”    汤姆停住脚步。    “听！”他说。    周围万籁俱寂，静得连他们的喘息声都能听见，汤姆放开喉咙大叫。叫声回荡在通道里，渐渐远去，直至最后隐约听上去像是阵阵笑声一样消失在通道深处。    “喂，汤姆，别喊了，听起来怪吓人的。”贝基说。    “是吓人，但我最好还是喊，贝基，说不准他们能听见我们。”说完他又大喊起来。“说不准”三个字比那阵阵笑声更可怕，它表明希望正在消失，两个孩子静静地站在那里听着，可什么也没听见。汤姆立即按原路返回，步伐很快。可没多久，他表现出举棋不定的样子。贝基感到十分害怕，汤姆居然连往回走的路也找不着了。    “喂，汤姆，你怎么什么记号也没做！”    “贝基，我真笨！一个大笨蛋！我根本没想到还会顺原路返回！是的，我们现在迷路了。真是糟糕透顶。”    “汤姆，汤姆，我们迷了路！找不着路了！永远也走不出这个鬼地方了！真是的，我们当时干吗不和别的伙伴一起走呢！”    说完，她一下子瘫在地上，大哭起来，这下子吓坏了汤姆，他以为她快要死了，要不然就是要发疯了。他坐在她旁边搂着她。她紧紧地挨着汤姆，脸贴在他怀里，一古脑地诉说她的恐惧，连后悔都来不及了，这声音传到远处变成了嘲笑，回荡在通道里。汤姆求她再打起精神来，可她说不能。于是汤姆开始了自责，骂自己不该把她弄到这种不幸的地步。这一骂倒有了好效果。她表示要努力抱定希望，只要汤姆不再说这种话，她愿意跟汤姆一起闯关，因为要说谁有错的话，她自己也不例外。    这样他俩又开始往前走，漫无目标地胡乱走——他们现在能做的就是往前走，不断地往前走。不久，希望又开始复苏——它没有什么理由，很简单，只是因为希望的源泉还没有因时间和失败而消失时，它自然而然地要复苏。    过了一会工夫，汤姆把贝基的蜡烛拿来吹灭，这种节约意味深长，言辞是多余的，不用多解释，贝基就明白了其中的含义，她的希望又破灭了。她知道汤姆口袋里还有一根整蜡烛和几个蜡烛头——但他必须节约着用。    又过了一会，疲乏开始袭上心头，可两个孩子尽力想置之不理，因为现在时间就是生命。他们连想坐下来休息一下都不敢想。只要往前走，往一个方向或者无论是往哪边走都算是前进，有可能会有结果；但千万不能坐下来，否则等于坐以待毙，好让死神降临得快些。    到后来，贝基柔弱的四肢再也支撑不住，她一步也走不动了。她坐在地上，汤姆也坐下来陪她休息。两人谈到家、那里的朋友、家里舒服的床铺，尤其是那灯光！贝基哭起来，汤姆想另换话题来安慰她，可是她已不止一次听到他这样鼓励，现在这些鼓励的话听起来倒像是在挖苦她。贝基实在疲乏极了，她昏昏欲睡，汤姆见此很高兴，他坐在那里盯着她看，只见她在甜蜜的睡梦中脸上的表情逐渐由绷紧状态变得舒展了，笑容也慢慢地露出来。那平静的脸庞给汤姆的心灵也带来了些慰籍。于是，他的心思转到了过去的时光和梦一般的回忆上去了，他陷入沉思时，贝基在一阵爽快的微笑中醒来，可是笑容突然中止，接着就是一阵呻吟声。    “唉，我怎么睡着了呢！要是一觉睡过去那该有多好啊！不！不！汤姆，我不是这么想的！不要这样看！我不说了。”    “贝基，你睡了一觉，这很好；你会觉得休息好了，我们会找到出去的路。”    “我们可以试试，汤姆。可我在梦中见到了一个美丽的国家，我想我们正是在去那儿的路上。”    “不一定，不一定。贝基，打起精神来！我们再去试它一试。”    他们站起身，手拉着手向前走去，可心里无数。他俩想合计出呆在洞里有多久了，可是他们只知道好像是过了许多天，有好几个星期，可是这不可能，因为蜡烛还没有用光。此后很长一段时间，他们都说不准在洞里到底呆了多久——汤姆说他们必须轻轻地走路，听听哪儿有滴水声——他们必须找到泉水处。不久他俩果真发现了一处泉水，汤姆又说这回该休息休息了。两人累得够呛，可是贝基却说她还能再走一会。汤姆不同意，这让贝基大吃一惊，不能理解。他们坐下来，汤姆用粘土把蜡烛粘在前面的石壁上。两人各想各的心思，谁也没说一句话。过了一段时间，还是贝基先开了口：    “汤姆，我很饿！”    汤姆从口袋里掏出点什么东西。    “还记得这个吗？”他问贝基。    她差点笑起来。    “是我俩的结婚喜糕啊，汤姆。”    “对了，现在就剩下这点东西了，它要是有方桶那么大就好了。”    “这还是我野餐时留下的，做个想头，汤姆，大人们的结婚喜糕不也是这样的吗？——不过这将是我俩的——”    她话只说了半截，汤姆就动手分喜糕。贝基大口大口地吃着，汤姆自己却一点一点、地尝着他那份。最后，他俩又饱饱地喝了一通凉水，结束了这顿“宴席”。这时贝基又开始建议继续往前走。汤姆先沉默了一会，然后说：    “贝基，如果我告诉你，你受得了吗？”    贝基的脸色发白，可她觉得她能受得了。    “是这样的，贝基，我们得呆在这里，这里有水喝，我们的蜡烛也只有这么一小截了！”    贝基放声大哭，汤姆尽全力来安慰她，可是一点用也没有。最后贝基说：    “汤姆！”    “我在这里，贝基，有什么要说的吗？”    “他们会想我俩，找我们的！”    “说得对，他们会的，一定会的！”    “说不定，现在正在找呢，汤姆。”    “当然喽，我想他们也许正在找，我希望如此。”    “汤姆，不知道他们什么时候会发现我们丢了？”    “大概是上船回去时吧。”    “汤姆，那可是天要黑的时候，他们会注意到我们没回去吗？”    “这，我就说不准了，不过他们一到家，你妈妈见不着你，一定会想你的。”    贝基的脸上露出害怕的神情，汤姆这才意识到他犯了个大错误。贝基说好那天晚上不回家。两个孩子沉默不语，各自思忖着，突然一阵悲痛袭上贝基心头，汤姆发现，他想的事情和她的一样——那就是星期天撒切尔夫人发现贝基不在哈帕夫人家时，已经是中午时分。孩子们眼睛盯着那截小蜡烛头，看着它一点一点、无情地烧掉，最后剩下半英寸长的烛心，那软弱的烛光忽高忽低，顺着细长的烟柱往上爬，爬到顶部徘徊了一会，接着恐怖的黑暗完全笼罩了一切。    也不知过了多久，贝基才慢慢意识到她趴在汤姆怀里哭。他俩只知道好像经过一段很长的时间后，两人从昏睡中醒来，再度一筹莫展。汤姆说现在可能是星期天，要么就是星期一。他尽力想让贝基说话，可是她十分悲伤，所有的希望全都泡了汤。汤姆说他们老早就走失了，毫无疑问，人们正在找他俩，他要叫喊，有许多人听见会来的。他叫了几声，可是黑暗中，回声听起来十分可怕，他只好停下来，不再叫喊。    时间一分一秒地逝去。现在饥饿又开始折磨这两个小家伙。汤姆拿出从他那份中留出来的一小块喜糕分给贝基吃，可是他们越吃越觉得饿得慌。那块小的可怜的喜糕反而激起了他们的食欲。    过了一会，汤姆说：    “嘘，你听见了吗？”    两人屏住呼吸静心听着，远处传来一阵模糊不清的喊叫声。汤姆立即搭上腔，拉着贝基的手，顺着声音传来的方向，摸索着进入通道里。他马上又听了听，声音又传过来，这次明显地近了。    “是他们！”汤姆说，“他们来了！快来贝基——我们现在有救了！”    两个被困在山洞里的“囚犯”高兴得几乎发狂。不过他俩走得很慢，因为脚下不时会碰到坑坑洼洼，必须小心点才行。说着说着，他们就碰到一个坑洼。他俩停下脚步。那坑大约有三英尺深，也许是一百英尺——不管怎么说是跨不过去的。汤姆趴在地上，尽量伸手去摸，可是根本摸不到坑底。他仍必须呆在这里，等待搜寻的人过来。他俩听着，很显然本来就很遥远的喊叫声，现在听起来更远了。一会工夫后，声音一点也听不到了。真是倒霉透顶！汤姆直喊得嗓子都哑了也无济于事。他充满希望地和贝基谈着，可过了一段令人焦虑的时刻后，再也没有听见那远去的喊叫声。孩子们摸索着重新回到泉水旁。时间慢慢地过去了，令人乏味。他们又睡了一觉，等醒来后饥肠辘辘，痛苦不堪，汤姆坚信今天一定是星期二。    汤姆突然想出个主意。附近有许多叉路口，与其在这里闲等着急人，不如去闯几条碰碰运气。他从口袋里掏出一根风筝线，把它系在一块突出的石头上，然后和贝基一起上了路。汤姆头里走，边走边放线。大约走出有二十步远，通道往下到了尽头。汤姆跪了下来，往下摸着，顺手摸到拐角处，他又使劲尽量往左边一点摸。这时，不到二十码的地方，有只手，拿着蜡烛，从石头后面出来了。汤姆大喝一声，那只手的主人——印第安·乔的身体立即露了出来。汤姆吓瘫了，他动弹不得。紧接着就见那西班牙人拔腿就跑，转眼就不见了，真是谢天谢地。汤姆在想乔没听出他是谁，否则会过来杀了他，以报他在法庭上作证之仇。山洞里的回音让人无法辨出谁是谁。毫无疑问这就是乔没能认出他的原因，汤姆这样合计着。汤姆被吓得浑身无力。他自言自语道，他要是还有气力回到泉水边，一定呆在那里，无论怎样，都不想再去冒险，碰上印第安·乔就完蛋了。他很谨慎，不想对贝基说出看到了什么。他讲他大喝一声只是为了碰碰运气。    可是从长远的角度来说害怕是次要的，主要的问题是饥饿和疲乏。他俩在泉水旁又度过了一个漫长而又乏味的夜晚，这给他俩带来了转机，孩子们醒来时，饥饿难忍。汤姆坚信日子到了星期三或是星期四，说不定是星期五、星期六都有可能，现在大伙们一定不再寻找他俩了，他提议重找一条出路。他现在觉得就是遇到印第安·乔和什么别的危险也不怕。问题是贝基虚弱得很。她陷入了麻木状态，唤不醒她的精神。她说她就原地呆着等待死亡——这不会太久。她对汤姆说，如果他愿意的话他自己可以顺着风筝线去找出路，但要求他时不时地回来好和她说说话，她还让他保证在最后时刻来临时，一定要守在她身旁，握着她的手，这样一直握下去。    汤姆吻了她，嗓子里却有种哽噎的感觉，表面上还装出信心十足的样子；别人一定会找来救他俩出洞。然后他手里拿着风筝线爬进一个通道。饥饿令他沮丧，尤其是一想到死到临头更令他感到悲伤。
Chapter 32
TUESDAY afternoon came, and waned to the twilight. The village of St. Petersburg still mourned. The lost children had not been found. Public prayers had been offered up for them, and many and many a private prayer that had the petitioner's whole heart in it; but still no good news came from the cave. The majority of the searchers had given up the quest and gone back to their daily avocations, saying that it was plain the children could never be found. Mrs. Thatcher was very ill, and a great part of the time delirious. People said it was heartbreaking to hear her call her child, and raise her head and listen a whole minute at a time, then lay it wearily down again with a moan. Aunt Polly had drooped into a settled melancholy, and her gray hair had grown almost white. The village went to its rest on Tuesday night, sad and forlorn.
Away in the middle of the night a wild peal burst from the village bells, and in a moment the streets were swarming with frantic half-clad people, who shouted, "Turn out! turn out! they're found! they're found!" Tin pans and horns were added to the din, the population massed itself and moved toward the river, met the children coming in an open carriage drawn by shouting citizens, thronged around it, joined its homeward march, and swept magnificently up the main street roaring huzzah after huzzah!
The village was illuminated; nobody went to bed again; it was the greatest night the little town had ever seen. During the first half-hour a procession of villagers filed through Judge Thatcher's house, seized the saved ones and kissed them, squeezed Mrs. Thatcher's hand, tried to speak but couldn't -- and drifted out raining tears all over the place.
Aunt Polly's happiness was complete, and Mrs. Thatcher's nearly so. It would be complete, however, as soon as the messenger dispatched with the great news to the cave should get the word to her husband. Tom lay upon a sofa with an eager auditory about him and told the history of the wonderful adventure, putting in many striking additions to adorn it withal; and closed with a description of how he left Becky and went on an exploring expedition; how he followed two avenues as far as his kite-line would reach; how he followed a third to the fullest stretch of the kite-line, and was about to turn back when he glimpsed a far-off speck that looked like daylight; dropped the line and groped toward it, pushed his head and shoulders through a small hole, and saw the broad Mississippi rolling by! And if it had only happened to be night he would not have seen that speck of daylight and would not have explored that passage any more! He told how he went back for Becky and broke the good news and she told him not to fret her with such stuff, for she was tired, and knew she was going to die, and wanted to. He described how he labored with her and convinced her; and how she almost died for joy when she had groped to where she actually saw the blue speck of daylight; how he pushed his way out at the hole and then helped her out; how they sat there and cried for gladness; how some men came along in a skiff and Tom hailed them and told them their situation and their famished condition; how the men didn't believe the wild tale at first, "because," said they, "you are five miles down the river below the valley the cave is in" -- then took them aboard, rowed to a house, gave them supper, made them rest till two or three hours after dark and then brought them home.
Before day-dawn, Judge Thatcher and the handful of searchers with him were tracked out, in the cave, by the twine clews they had strung behind them, and informed of the great news.
Three days and nights of toil and hunger in the cave were not to be shaken off at once, as Tom and Becky soon discovered. They were bedridden all of Wednesday and Thursday, and seemed to grow more and more tired and worn, all the time. Tom got about, a little, on Thursday, was down-town Friday, and nearly as whole as ever Saturday; but Becky did not leave her room until Sunday, and then she looked as if she had passed through a wasting illness.
Tom learned of Huck's sickness and went to see him on Friday, but could not be admitted to the bedroom; neither could he on Saturday or Sunday. He was admitted daily after that, but was warned to keep still about his adventure and introduce no exciting topic. The Widow Douglas stayed by to see that he obeyed. At home Tom learned of the Cardiff Hill event; also that the "ragged man's" body had eventually been found in the river near the ferrylanding; he had been drowned while trying to escape, perhaps.
About a fortnight after Tom's rescue from the cave, he started off to visit Huck, who had grown plenty strong enough, now, to hear exciting talk, and Tom had some that would interest him, he thought. Judge Thatcher's house was on Tom's way, and he stopped to see Becky. The Judge and some friends set Tom to talking, and some one asked him ironically if he wouldn't like to go to the cave again. Tom said he thought he wouldn't mind it. The Judge said:
"Well, there are others just like you, Tom, I've not the least doubt. But we have taken care of that. Nobody will get lost in that cave any more."
"Why?"
"Because I had its big door sheathed with boiler iron two weeks ago, and triple-locked -- and I've got the keys."
Tom turned as white as a sheet.
"What's the matter, boy! Here, run, somebody! Fetch a glass of water!"
The water was brought and thrown into Tom's face.
"Ah, now you're all right. What was the matter with you, Tom?"
"Oh, Judge, Injun Joe's in the cave!"  
第三十二章　“大家快起来，孩子找到了！” 
    日子到了星期二下午，一直挨到黄昏时刻，圣彼得堡全村仍沉浸在哀悼之中，两个走失的孩子尚无音讯。大家为他俩举行了公开的祈祷仪式。还有许多私自为他俩祈祷的人，个个诚心诚意，企望着他俩早日归来，可洞中传来的消息仍然和以前一样。大多数寻找的人都回家去各干各的事情，他们认为很显然不可能再找到那两个孩子了。撒切尔夫人病得不轻，一大部分时间烧得她直说胡话。她呼唤着孩子的名字，有时头抬起来整整有一分钟时间那么长听着，然后无力地呻吟着一头倒在床上。见此情形，大家都说真叫人心碎。波莉姨妈一直愁云笼罩，那头灰发现在几乎全都变白了。晚上整个村庄在一片悲哀和绝望的氛围里静了下来。    离半夜时分，村里的钟突然全噹噹地响起来，声音特别大，顷刻之间，街道上就挤满了人，他们连衣服都没来得及穿好，站在那里大声嚷着：“大家快起来，快起来，孩子找到了！孩子找到了！”接着还能听见洋铁盆和号角的喧嚣声。人群自动集合起来，朝河那边走，去迎接那两个孩子。他俩坐在一辆敞篷的人拉着的马车上，周围的人群前呼后拥，再加上迎车的人，大家浩浩荡荡地涌上大街，欢呼声此起彼伏。    村子里这下灯火通明，没人还想着回去睡觉，这是他们度过的最壮观的一夜。起初的半小时里，村民们一个接一个地来到撒切尔法官家里，抱着两个孩子就亲，使劲地握住撒切尔太太的手，想说点什么，又说不出来——然后他们就涌了出去，泪水洒得满地都是。    波莉姨妈快活极了。撒切尔夫人也差不多，等到派往洞里报喜的人把这个消息告诉了她丈夫，他也会快活到极点。汤姆躺在沙发上，周围一群热心的听者听他讲述这次历险的故事，他不时地添油加醋大肆渲染一番。最后，他描述了他如何离开贝基独自一人去探险；怎样顺着两个通道一直走到风筝线够不着的地方；然后又是怎样顺着第三个通道往前走，把风筝线全放开，他刚要返回时却看见远处有个小亮点，看上去像是日光；于是他丢下绳子，朝小亮点处摸索过去，连头带肩一起伸出小洞，看见了那宽阔的密西西比河滚滚流过。如果当时是晚上，那他不会发现亮光，更不可能走这条通道。他还讲他是如何回去，把这个好消息告诉贝基，可她说不要拿这种胡扯来烦她，因为她已经够累的了。她知道她活不长了，也愿意死去。他描述了他费尽口舌去说服她，等她摸索到能看见蓝色天光的地方，她简直高兴死了；他是怎样挤到洞外，然后帮忙把她也拉出了洞，他俩怎样坐在那儿，高兴得大喊大叫；然后有几个人是如何乘小艇经过，汤姆招呼他们，并讲明自己的处境：已经断炊。那几个人起先如何不相信这荒唐的事，因为他们讲“你们呆的山洞在河下游五英里处”——然后把他俩弄上小艇，划到一座房子处，让他俩吃了晚饭，天黑后休息了两三个小时，才把他们带回家。    天亮之前，送信的人根据撒切尔法官和跟他一起的人留下的麻绳记号找到了他们，告诉了他们这个重大的消息。    很快汤姆和贝基明白了：由于呆在洞中三天三夜，又累又饥，身体还不可能一下子恢复过来。整个星期三和星期四，他们都卧床不起，好像是越睡越困，越休息越乏力。汤姆星期四稍微活动了一下，星期五就到镇上去了，到星期六几乎完全恢复了原样，可是贝基一直到星期天才出门，但看上去很瘦，好像害过一场大病似的。    汤姆听说哈克病了，星期五去看他，可是人家不让他进卧室，星期六和星期天也没能进去。之后天天都能进去，但不准他提历险的事情或谈什么使人激动的话题；道格拉斯寡妇呆在卧室里监督汤姆，防止他乱讲乱说。汤姆在家中听到了卡第夫山事件，还知道人们后来在渡口附近的河里发现了那个“衣衫褴褛”的人的尸体，他也许是想逃跑，结果却被淹死了。    汤姆从洞中获救后大约两周便去看哈克，这时哈克结实多了，不怕激动了。汤姆想他有些话会让哈克感兴趣。汤姆路过撒切尔法官家时，就去看了贝基，法官和几个朋友让汤姆打开话匣子，有个人半开玩笑地问汤姆还愿不愿意旧洞重游。汤姆说再去也没什么关系，法官就说：    “是啊，汤姆，我一点也不怀疑，还有你这样的人。但我们现在慎重了，再也不会有人在洞里迷路。”    “这是怎么回事呢？”    “因为两周前我已经用锅炉铁板把大门钉上了一层，上了三道锁——钥匙由我保管。”    汤姆脸色马上变得煞白。    “你怎么啦？孩子，喂，快去倒杯水来！”    有人取来水泼在汤姆的脸上。    “啊，你现在没事了，汤姆，你到底是怎么啦？”    “噢，对了，法官大人，印第安·乔还在洞里呐！”
Chapter 33
WITHIN a few minutes the news had spread, and a dozen skiff-loads of men were on their way to McDougal's cave, and the ferry-boat, well filled with passengers, soon followed. Tom Sawyer was in the skiff that bore Judge Thatcher.
When the cave door was unlocked, a sorrowful sight presented itself in the dim twilight of the place. Injun Joe lay stretched upon the ground, dead, with his face close to the crack of the door, as if his longing eyes had been fixed, to the latest moment, upon the light and the cheer of the free world outside. Tom was touched, for he knew by his own experience how this wretch had suffered. His pity was moved, but nevertheless he felt an abounding sense of relief and security, now, which revealed to him in a degree which he had not fully appreciated before how vast a weight of dread had been lying upon him since the day he lifted his voice against this bloody-minded outcast.
Injun Joe's bowie-knife lay close by, its blade broken in two. The great foundation-beam of the door had been chipped and hacked through, with tedious labor; useless labor, too, it was, for the native rock formed a sill outside it, and upon that stubborn material the knife had wrought no effect; the only damage done was to the knife itself. But if there had been no stony obstruction there the labor would have been useless still, for if the beam had been wholly cut away Injun Joe could not have squeezed his body under the door, and he knew it. So he had only hacked that place in order to be doing something -- in order to pass the weary time – in order to employ his tortured faculties. Ordinarily one could find half a dozen bits of candle stuck around in the crevices of this vestibule, left there by tourists; but there were none now. The prisoner had searched them out and eaten them. He had also contrived to catch a few bats, and these, also, he had eaten, leaving only their claws. The poor unfortunate had starved to death. In one place, near at hand, a stalagmite had been slowly growing up from the ground for ages, builded by the water-drip from a stalactite overhead. The captive had broken off the stalagmite, and upon the stump had placed a stone, wherein he had scooped a shallow hollow to catch the precious drop that fell once in every three minutes with the dreary regularity of a clock-tick – a dessertspoonful once in four and twenty hours. That drop was falling when the Pyramids were new; when Troy fell; when the foundations of Rome were laid when Christ was crucified; when the Conqueror created the British empire; when Columbus sailed; when the massacre at Lexington was "news." It is falling now; it will still be falling when all these things shall have sunk down the afternoon of history, and the twilight of tradition, and been swallowed up in the thick night of oblivion. Has everything a purpose and a mission? Did this drop fall patiently during five thousand years to be ready for this flitting human insect's need? And has it another important object to accomplish ten thousand years to come? No matter. It is many and many a year since the hapless half-breed scooped out the stone to catch the priceless drops, but to this day the tourist stares longest at that pathetic stone and that slow-dropping water when he comes to see the wonders of McDougal's cave. Injun Joe's cup stands first in the list of the cavern's marvels; even "Aladdin's Palace" cannot rival it.
Injun Joe was buried near the mouth of the cave; and people flocked there in boats and wagons from the towns and from all the farms and hamlets for seven miles around; they brought their children, and all sorts of provisions, and confessed that they had had almost as satisfactory a time at the funeral as they could have had at the hanging.
This funeral stopped the further growth of one thing -- the petition to the governor for Injun Joe's pardon. The petition had been largely signed; many tearful and eloquent meetings had been held, and a committee of sappy women been appointed to go in deep mourning and wail around the governor, and implore him to be a merciful ass and trample his duty under foot. Injun Joe was believed to have killed five citizens of the village, but what of that? If he had been Satan himself there would have been plenty of weaklings ready to scribble their names to a pardon-petition, and drip a tear on it from their permanently impaired and leaky water-works.
The morning after the funeral Tom took Huck to a private place to have an important talk. Huck had learned all about Tom's adventure from the Welshman and the Widow Douglas, by this time, but Tom said he reckoned there was one thing they had not told him; that thing was what he wanted to talk about now. Huck's face saddened. He said:
"I know what it is. You got into No. 2 and never found anything but whiskey. Nobody told me it was you; but I just knowed it must 'a' ben you, soon as I heard 'bout that whiskey business; and I knowed you hadn't got the money becuz you'd 'a' got at me some way or other and told me even if you was mum to everybody else. Tom, something's always told me we'd never get holt of that swag."
"Why, Huck, I never told on that tavern-keeper. YOU know his tavern was all right the Saturday I went to the picnic. Don't you remember you was to watch there that night?"
"Oh yes! Why, it seems 'bout a year ago. It was that very night that I follered Injun Joe to the widder's."
"YOU followed him?"
"Yes -- but you keep mum. I reckon Injun Joe's left friends behind him, and I don't want 'em souring on me and doing me mean tricks. If it hadn't ben for me he'd be down in Texas now, all right."
Then Huck told his entire adventure in confidence to Tom, who had only heard of the Welshman's part of it before.
"Well," said Huck, presently, coming back to the main question, "whoever nipped the whiskey in No. 2, nipped the money, too, I reckon -- anyways it's a goner for us, Tom."
"Huck, that money wasn't ever in No. 2!"
"What!" Huck searched his comrade's face keenly. "Tom, have you got on the track of that money again?"
"Huck, it's in the cave!"
Huck's eyes blazed.
"Say it again, Tom."
"The money's in the cave!"
"Tom -- honest injun, now -- is it fun, or earnest?"
"Earnest, Huck -- just as earnest as ever I was in my life. Will you go in there with me and help get it out?"
"I bet I will! I will if it's where we can blaze our way to it and not get lost."
"Huck, we can do that without the least little bit of trouble in the world."
"Good as wheat! What makes you think the money's --"
"Huck, you just wait till we get in there. If we don't find it I'll agree to give you my drum and every thing I've got in the world. I will, by jings."
"All right -- it's a whiz. When do you say?"
"Right now, if you say it. Are you strong enough?"
"Is it far in the cave? I ben on my pins a little, three or four days, now, but I can't walk more'n a mile, Tom -- least I don't think I could."
"It's about five mile into there the way anybody but me would go, Huck, but there's a mighty short cut that they don't anybody but me know about. Huck, I'll take you right to it in a skiff. I'll float the skiff down there, and I'll pull it back again all by myself. You needn't ever turn your hand over."
"Less start right off, Tom."
"All right. We want some bread and meat, and our pipes, and a little bag or two, and two or three kite-strings, and some of these new-fangled things they call lucifer matches. I tell you, many's the time I wished I had some when I was in there before."
A trifle after noon the boys borrowed a small skiff from a citizen who was absent, and got under way at once. When they were several miles below "Cave Hollow," Tom said:
"Now you see this bluff here looks all alike all the way down from the cave hollow -- no houses, no woodyards, bushes all alike. But do you see that white place up yonder where there's been a landslide? Well, that's one of my marks. We'll get ashore, now."
They landed.
"Now, Huck, where we're a-standing you could touch that hole I got out of with a fishing-pole. See if you can find it."
Huck searched all the place about, and found nothing. Tom proudly marched into a thick clump of sumach bushes and said:
"Here you are! Look at it, Huck; it's the snuggest hole in this country. You just keep mum about it. All along I've been wanting to be a robber, but I knew I'd got to have a thing like this, and where to run across it was the bother. We've got it now, and we'll keep it quiet, only we'll let Joe Harper and Ben Rogers in -- because of course there's got to be a Gang, or else there wouldn't be any style about it. Tom Sawyer's Gang -- it sounds splendid, don't it, Huck?"
"Well, it just does, Tom. And who'll we rob?"
"Oh, most anybody. Waylay people -- that's mostly the way."
"And kill them?"
"No, not always. Hive them in the cave till they raise a ransom."
"What's a ransom?"
"Money. You make them raise all they can, off'n their friends; and after you've kept them a year, if it ain't raised then you kill them. That's the general way. Only you don't kill the women. You shut up the women, but you don't kill them. They're always beautiful and rich, and awfully scared. You take their watches and things, but you always take your hat off and talk polite. They ain't anybody as polite as robbers -- you'll see that in any book. Well, the women get to loving you, and after they've been in the cave a week or two weeks they stop crying and after that you couldn't get them to leave. If you drove them out they'd turn right around and come back. It's so in all the books."
"Why, it's real bully, Tom. I believe it's better'n to be a pirate."
"Yes, it's better in some ways, because it's close to home and circuses and all that."
By this time everything was ready and the boys entered the hole, Tom in the lead. They toiled their way to the farther end of the tunnel, then made their spliced kite-strings fast and moved on. A few steps brought them to the spring, and Tom felt a shudder quiver all through him. He showed Huck the fragment of candle-wick perched on a lump of clay against the wall, and described how he and Becky had watched the flame struggle and expire.
The boys began to quiet down to whispers, now, for the stillness and gloom of the place oppressed their spirits. They went on, and presently entered and followed Tom's other corridor until they reached the "jumping-off place." The candles revealed the fact that it was not really a precipice, but only a steep clay hill twenty or thirty feet high. Tom whispered:
"Now I'll show you something, Huck."
He held his candle aloft and said:
"Look as far around the corner as you can. Do you see that? There -- on the big rock over yonder -- done with candle-smoke."
"Tom, it's a cross!"
"NOW where's your Number Two? 'under the cross,' hey? Right yonder's where I saw Injun Joe poke up his candle, Huck!"
Huck stared at the mystic sign awhile, and then said with a shaky voice:
"Tom, less git out of here!"
"What! and leave the treasure?"
"Yes -- leave it. Injun Joe's ghost is round about there, certain."
"No it ain't, Huck, no it ain't. It would ha'nt the place where he died -- away out at the mouth of the cave -- five mile from here."
"No, Tom, it wouldn't. It would hang round the money. I know the ways of ghosts, and so do you."
Tom began to fear that Huck was right. Misgivings gathered in his mind. But presently an idea occurred to him --
"Lookyhere, Huck, what fools we're making of ourselves! Injun Joe's ghost ain't a going to come around where there's a cross!"
The point was well taken. It had its effect.
"Tom, I didn't think of that. But that's so. It's luck for us, that cross is. I reckon we'll climb down there and have a hunt for that box."
Tom went first, cutting rude steps in the clay hill as he descended. Huck followed. Four avenues opened out of the small cavern which the great rock stood in. The boys examined three of them with no result. They found a small recess in the one nearest the base of the rock, with a pallet of blankets spread down in it; also an old suspender, some bacon rind, and the well-gnawed bones of two or three fowls. But there was no money-box. The lads searched and researched this place, but in vain. Tom said:
"He said under the cross. Well, this comes nearest to being under the cross. It can't be under the rock itself, because that sets solid on the ground."
They searched everywhere once more, and then sat down discouraged. Huck could suggest nothing. By-and-by Tom said:
"Lookyhere, Huck, there's footprints and some candle-grease on the clay about one side of this rock, but not on the other sides. Now, what's that for? I bet you the money IS under the rock. I'm going to dig in the clay."
"That ain't no bad notion, Tom!" said Huck with animation.
Tom's "real Barlow" was out at once, and he had not dug four inches before he struck wood.
"Hey, Huck! -- you hear that?"
Huck began to dig and scratch now. Some boards were soon uncovered and removed. They had concealed a natural chasm which led under the rock. Tom got into this and held his candle as far under the rock as he could, but said he could not see to the end of the rift. He proposed to explore. He stooped and passed under; the narrow way descended gradually. He followed its winding course, first to the right, then to the left, Huck at his heels. Tom turned a short curve, by-and-by, and exclaimed:
"My goodness, Huck, lookyhere!"
It was the treasure-box, sure enough, occupying a snug little cavern, along with an empty powder-keg, a couple of guns in leather cases, two or three pairs of old moccasins, a leather belt, and some other rubbish well soaked with the water-drip.
"Got it at last!" said Huck, ploughing among the tarnished coins with his hand. "My, but we're rich, Tom!"
"Huck, I always reckoned we'd get it. It's just too good to believe, but we have got it, sure! Say -- let's not fool around here. Let's snake it out. Lemme see if I can lift the box."
It weighed about fifty pounds. Tom could lift it, after an awkward fashion, but could not carry it conveniently.
"I thought so," he said; "They carried it like it was heavy, that day at the ha'nted house. I noticed that. I reckon I was right to think of fetching the little bags along."
The money was soon in the bags and the boys took it up to the cross rock.
"Now less fetch the guns and things," said Huck.
"No, Huck -- leave them there. They're just the tricks to have when we go to robbing. We'll keep them there all the time, and we'll hold our orgies there, too. It's an awful snug place for orgies."
"What orgies?"
"I dono. But robbers always have orgies, and of course we've got to have them, too. Come along, Huck, we've been in here a long time. It's getting late, I reckon. I'm hungry, too. We'll eat and smoke when we get to the skiff."
They presently emerged into the clump of sumach bushes, looked warily out, found the coast clear, and were soon lunching and smoking in the skiff. As the sun dipped toward the horizon they pushed out and got under way. Tom skimmed up the shore through the long twilight, chatting cheerily with Huck, and landed shortly after dark.
"Now, Huck," said Tom, "we'll hide the money in the loft of the widow's woodshed, and I'll come up in the morning and we'll count it and divide, and then we'll hunt up a place out in the woods for it where it will be safe. Just you lay quiet here and watch the stuff till I run and hook Benny Taylor's little wagon; I won't be gone a minute."
He disappeared, and presently returned with the wagon, put the two small sacks into it, threw some old rags on top of them, and started off, dragging his cargo behind him. When the boys reached the Welshman's house, they stopped to rest. Just as they were about to move on, the Welshman stepped out and said:
"Hallo, who's that?"
"Huck and Tom Sawyer."
"Good! Come along with me, boys, you are keeping everybody waiting. Here -- hurry up, trot ahead -- I'll haul the wagon for you. Why, it's not as light as it might be. Got bricks in it? -- or old metal?"
"Old metal," said Tom.
"I judged so; the boys in this town will take more trouble and fool away more time hunting up six bits' worth of old iron to sell to the foundry than they would to make twice the money at regular work. But that's human nature -- hurry along, hurry along!"
The boys wanted to know what the hurry was about.
"Never mind; you'll see, when we get to the Widow Douglas'."
Huck said with some apprehension -- for he was long used to being falsely accused:
"Mr. Jones, we haven't been doing nothing."
The Welshman laughed.
"Well, I don't know, Huck, my boy. I don't know about that. Ain't you and the widow good friends?"
"Yes. Well, she's ben good friends to me, anyway."
"All right, then. What do you want to be afraid for?"
This question was not entirely answered in Huck's slow mind before he found himself pushed, along with Tom, into Mrs. Douglas' drawing-room. Mr. Jones left the wagon near the door and followed.
The place was grandly lighted, and everybody that was of any consequence in the village was there. The Thatchers were there, the Harpers, the Rogerses, Aunt Polly, Sid, Mary, the minister, the editor, and a great many more, and all dressed in their best. The widow received the boys as heartily as any one could well receive two such looking beings. They were covered with clay and candle-grease. Aunt Polly blushed crimson with humiliation, and frowned and shook her head at Tom. Nobody suffered half as much as the two boys did, however. Mr. Jones said:
"Tom wasn't at home, yet, so I gave him up; but I stumbled on him and Huck right at my door, and so I just brought them along in a hurry."
"And you did just right," said the widow. "Come with me, boys."
She took them to a bedchamber and said:
"Now wash and dress yourselves. Here are two new suits of clothes -- shirts, socks, everything complete. They're Huck's -- no, no thanks, Huck -- Mr. Jones bought one and I the other. But they'll fit both of you. Get into them. We'll wait -- come down when you are slicked up enough."
Then she left.  
第三十三章　印第安·乔困死山洞
    几分钟内，消息传开了，十几只小艇装满人往麦克道格拉斯山洞划去，渡船也满载着乘客随后而去。汤姆·索亚和撒切尔法官同乘一条小艇。    洞口的锁被打开，暗淡的光线下显现出一幅惨兮兮的景象。印第安·乔躺在地上，四肢伸直死了。他的脸离门缝很近，看上去好像在那最后一刻，企盼的眼神死盯着外面的光明和那自由自在的欢乐世界。汤姆受到了震动，因为他亲身在洞中呆过，所以能理解这个家伙当时的苦楚。他动了恻隐之心，但不管怎么说他觉得现在十分地快慰和安全，这一点他以前从没有体会到。自打他做证，证明那个流浪汉的罪行之后，他心头一直有种沉重的恐惧感。    印第安·乔的那把猎刀还在他身边，刀刃已裂成两半。他死前拼命用刀砍过那门下面的大横木，凿穿了个缺口，可是这没有用，外面的石头天然地形成了一个门框，用刀砍这样坚固的门框，简直是鸡蛋碰石头，根本不起作用，相反刀倒被砍得不成形了。就算没有石头，印第安·乔也是白费气力，他可以砍断大横木，但要想从门下面钻出来也是不可能的，他自己也明白这一点。他砍大横木，只是为了找点事干，为了打发那烦人的时光，以便有所寄托。往常，人们可以找到五六截游客们插在缝隙间的蜡烛头，可是这一次一截也没有，因为这个被困的家伙把所有的蜡烛头都找出来吃掉了。他还设法捉到几只蝙蝠，除了爪子外全吃掉了。这个可怜而又不幸的家伙最后是饿死的。不远处有个石笋，已有些年月，它是由头顶上的钟乳石滴水所形成的。他把石笋弄断后，把一块石头放在石笋墩上，凿出一个浅窝来接每隔三分钟才滴下来一滴宝贵的水。水滴声像钟表一般有规律，令人烦闷，一天一夜下来才能接满一汤匙。自金字塔刚出现，这水就在滴；特洛伊城陷落时；罗马城刚建立时；基督被钉上十字架时；征服者威廉大帝创建英国时；航海家哥伦布出航时；莱克星屯大屠杀鲜为人知时；那水就一直在滴个不停。现在它还在滴，即使等一切随着历史成为烟消云散，而后被人遗忘，它还会滴淌下去。世间万物是不是都有目的，负有使命呢？这滴水五千年来默默地流淌不断，是不是专为这个可怜虫准备的呢？它是不是还有另外重要的目的，再流它个一万年呢？这没什么要紧的。在那个倒霉的混血儿用石头窝接那宝贵的水之前，已过去了若干年。可是如今的游客来麦克道格拉斯山洞观光时，会长时驻足，盯着那块令人伤心的石头和缓缓而下的水滴，印第安·乔的“杯子”在山洞奇观中格外突出，连“阿拉丁宫殿”也比不上它。    印第安·乔被埋在山洞口附近。城里、乡下周围七里内的人都乘船或马车成群结队地来到这里。他们领着孩子，带来各种食物，都表示看到埋葬乔和看他被绞死差不多一样开心。    这件事过后人们不再向州长提赦免印第安·乔的事了。许多人都在请愿书上签了名，还开过许多声一把泪一把的会议，选了一群软心肠的妇女组成请愿团，身穿丧服到州长那里哭诉，请求他大发仁慈之心，别管自己的职责要求。据说印第安·乔手里有五条人命案，可那又怎么样呢？就算他是魔鬼撒旦，也还会有一帮糊涂蛋愿在请愿书上划押，并且从他们那永远没修好的“自来水龙头”里滴出泪水来洒在请愿书上。    埋了乔后的那天早晨，汤姆把哈克叫到一个无人的地方，跟他说件重要的事情。此时哈克从威尔斯曼和道格拉斯寡妇那里知道了汤姆历险的经过。可汤姆却说，他觉得他们有一件事没跟哈克说，这正是他现在要讲的。哈克脸色阴沉地说：    “我知道是什么，你进了二号，除威士忌外，你别的什么东西也没找到。虽然没人说是你干的，可我一听到威土忌那桩事，就知道一定是你干的，你没搞到钱，要不然的话，你早就跟我一人说了。汤姆，我总觉得，我们永远也得不到那份财宝。”    “我说哈克，我从来也没有告发客栈老板，星期六我去野餐时，客栈不是好好的吗？这你是知道的。你忘了吗，那天晚上该你去守夜。”    “噢，对了！怎么觉得好像是一年前的事情了。正是那天晚上，我跟在印第安·乔后面，一直跟到寡妇家。”    “原来是你跟在他后面呀！”    “是我，可别声张出去。我想印第安·乔还有朋友，我不想让他们来整我，要不是我，他这回准到了得克萨斯州，准没错。”    于是哈克像知己般地把他的全部历险经过告诉了汤姆。    在这之前，汤姆只听说过有关威尔斯曼的事情。“喂，”哈克接着回到老话题说，“哪个搞到威土忌，那钱也就落在他手里。反正没我俩的份。”    “哈克，那财宝根本就不在二号里！”    “你说什么？”哈克仔细打量着同伴的脸。“汤姆，难道你又有了新线索？”    “哈克，它就在洞里呀！”    哈克的眼睛闪闪发光。    “再说一遍听听，汤姆。”    “钱在洞里！”    “汤姆，你是开玩笑，还是说真格的？”    “当然是真格的，我一直都是这样。你跟我去，把它弄出来好吗？”    “发个誓！只要我们能作记号，找到回来的路，我就跟你去。”    “哈克，这次进洞，不会遇到任何麻烦事。”    “棒极了，你怎么想到钱在——”    “哈克，别急，进去就知道了，要是拿不到钱，我愿把我的小鼓，还有别的东西全都给你，决不失言。”    “好，一言为定。你说什么时候动身吧。”    “马上就去，你看呢？你身体行吗？”    “要进到很深的地方吗？我恢复得已经有三四天了，不过最远只能走一英里，汤姆，至少我觉得是这样。”    “哈克，别人进洞得走五英里，可有条近路只有我一人知道。哈克，我马上带你划小船过去。我让它浮在那儿，回来时我自己划船，根本不用你动手。”    “汤姆，我们这就走吧！”    “行，我们得备点面包、肉，还有烟斗、一两只小口袋、两三根风筝线，再带点他们叫洋火的那玩意。上次在洞里，好几回我想要是有些洋火可能就好了。”    中午稍过，两个孩子乘人不在“借”了条船，就出发了。    在离“空心洞”还有几英里的地方，汤姆说：    “你瞧，这高崖从上往下一个样：没房子，没锯木厂，灌木丛都一样。你再瞧那边崩塌处有块白色空地，那就是我们的记号之一。好了，现在该上岸了。”    他们上了岸。    “哈克，在这里用钓鱼竿就能够到我钻出来的洞，你肯定能找到洞口。”    哈克到处找了找，没找到什么。汤姆很神气地迈着大步走到一大堆绿树丛旁说：    “找到了！哈克，你瞧洞在这里；这是最隐蔽的洞口，别对外人说。我早就想当强盗，知道需要这样一个洞好藏身，可是到哪里能碰到这样理想的洞确实烦神，现在有了，但得保密，只能让乔·哈帕和本·罗杰斯进洞，因为我们得结帮成伙，要不然就没有派头。汤姆·索亚这名子挺响的，是不是，哈克？”    “嗯，是挺响的，汤姆，抢谁呢？”    “遇谁抢谁吧，拦路抢劫——都是这样干的。”    “还杀人吗？”    “不，不总是杀人，把他们撵到洞里，让他们拿钱来赎？”    “什么叫赎？”    “就是用钱来换人，叫他们把所有的钱统统拿出来。连朋友的钱也要弄来，若一年内不送上赎金，就放他们的血，通常就这么干。不过不要杀女人，只是把她们关起来就够了。她们长得总是很漂亮，也有钱，但一被抓住就吓得不行。你可以下她们的手表，拿别的东西，但对待她们，你要摘帽以示有礼，不管读什么书，你都会知道强盗是最有礼貌的人。接下来就是女人渐渐地对你产生好感，在洞里呆上一两周后，她们也就不哭了，随后你就是让她们走，她们也不走。要是你把她们带出去，她们会折回身，径直返回来。所有的书上都是这么描写的。”    “哇，太棒了，汤姆，当强盗是比做海盗好。”    “的确有些好处，因为这样离家近，看马戏什么的也方便。”    此刻，一切准备就绪，两个孩子就开始钻山洞。汤姆打头里走，他们好不容易走到通道的另一头，然后系紧捻好的风筝线，又继续往前走。没有几步路，他们来到泉水处，汤姆浑身一阵冷颤，他让哈克看墙边泥块上的那截蜡烛芯，讲述了他和贝基两人当时看着蜡烛火光摇曳，直至最后熄灭时的心情。    洞里死气沉沉，静得吓人。两个孩子开始压低嗓门，低声说话。他们再往前走，很快就钻进了另一个道，一直来到那个低凹的地方，借着烛光发现，这个地方不是悬崖，只是个二十英尺高的陡山坡，汤姆悄悄说：    “哈克，现在让你瞧件东西。”    他高高举起蜡烛说：    “尽量朝拐角处看，看见了吗？那边——那边的大石头上——有蜡烛烟熏出来的记号。”    “汤姆，我看那是十字！”    “那么你的二号呢？在十字架下，对吗？哈克，我就是在那看见印第安·乔伸出蜡烛的！”    哈克盯着那神秘的记号看了一阵，然后声音颤抖地说：    “汤姆，咱们出去吧！”    “什么？出去？不要财宝啦。”    “对，不要财宝啦。印第安·乔的鬼魂就在附近，肯定在。”    “不在这里，哈克，一定不在这里。在他死的地方，那洞口离这还有五英里远。”    “不，汤姆，它不在那里，它就在钱附近，我晓得鬼的特性，这你也是知道的。”    汤姆也动摇了，他担心也许哈克说得对，他也满脑的怀疑，但很快他有了个主意：    “喂，哈克，我俩真是十足的大傻瓜。印第安·乔的鬼魂怎么可能在有十字的地方游荡呢！”    汤姆这下说到点子上啦，他的话果真起了作用。    “汤姆，我怎么没想到十字能避邪呢。我们真幸运，我们的好十字。我觉得我们该从那里爬下去找那箱财宝。”    汤姆先下，边往下走，边打一些粗糙的脚蹬儿。哈克跟在后面，有大岩石的那个石洞分出四个叉道口。孩子查看了三个道口，结果一无所获，在最靠近大石头的道口里，他们找到了一个小窝，里边有个铺着毯子的地铺，还有个旧吊篮，一块熏肉皮，两三块啃得干干净净的鸡骨头，可就是没钱箱。两个小家伙一遍又一遍地到处找，可还是没找到钱箱，于是汤姆说：    “他说是在十字下，你瞧，这不就是最靠近十字底下的地方吗？不可能藏在石头底下面吧，这下面一点缝隙也没有。”    他们又到四处找了一遍便灰心丧气地坐下来。哈克一个主意也说不出来，最后还是汤姆开了口：    “喂，哈克，这块石头的一面泥土上有脚印和蜡烛油，另一面却什么也没有。你想想，这是为什么呢？我跟你打赌钱就在石头下面，我要把它挖出来。”    “想法不错，汤姆！”哈克兴奋地说道。    汤姆立刻掏出正宗的巴罗刀，没挖到四英寸深就碰到了木头。    “嘿，哈克，听到木头的声音了吗？”    哈克也开始挖，不一会工夫，他们把露出的木板移走，这时出现了一个通往岩石下的天然裂口。汤姆举着蜡烛钻了进去。汤姆说他看不到裂口尽头处，想进去看看，于是弯着腰穿过裂口。路越来越窄，渐渐地往下通去。他先是右，然后是左，曲曲弯弯地沿着通道往前走，哈克跟在汤姆后面。后来汤姆进了一段弧形通道，不久就大声叫道：“老天爷啊，哈克，你看这是什么？”    是宝箱，千真万确，它藏在一个小石窟里，旁边有个空弹药桶，两只装在皮套里的枪，两三双旧皮鞋，一条皮带，另外还有些被水浸得湿漉漉的破烂东西。    “财宝终于找到了！”哈克边说，边用手抓起一把变色的钱币。“汤姆，这下我们发财了。”    “哈克，我总觉得我们会找到的，真难以令人相信，不过财宝确实到手了！喂，别傻呆在这儿，把它拖出去，我来试试看，能不能搬动。”    箱子重有五十磅。汤姆费了好大的劲才把它提起来，可提着走却很吃力。    “我早就猜对了，”他说，“那天在闹鬼的房间里，他们拿箱子时，样子也是十分吃力，我看出来了，带来的这些小布袋子正好用上。”    钱很快被装进小袋子里，孩子们把它搬上去拿到十字岩石旁。    “我现在去拿枪和别的东西，”哈克说。    “别去拿，别动那些东西，我们以后当强盗会用得着那些东西，现在就放在那里。我们还要在那里聚会，痛饮一番，那可是个难得的好地方。”    “什么叫痛饮一番？”    “我也不知道，不过强盗们总是聚会痛饮，我们当然也要这样做。快走，哈克，我们在这里呆的时间太长了，现在不早了，我也饿了，等到船上就可以吃东西，抽香烟。”    不久他俩出来后钻进了绿树林，警惕地观察四周，发现岸边没人，就开始上船吃起饭，抽起烟来。    太阳快接近地平线时，他们撑起船离岸而去，黄昏中汤姆沿岸边划了很长时间，边划边兴高采烈地和哈克聊天，天刚黑他俩就上了岸。    “哈克，”汤姆说，“我们把钱藏到寡妇家柴火棚的阁楼上，早上我就回来把钱过过数，然后两人分掉，再到林子里找个安全的地方把它放好。你呆在这儿别动，看着钱，我去把本尼·泰勒的小车子偷来，一会儿就回来。”    说完，他就消失了，不一会工夫他带着小车子回来，把两个小袋子先扔上车，然后再盖上些烂布，拖着“货物”就出发了。来到威尔斯曼家时，他俩停下来休息，之后正要动身时，威尔斯曼走出来说：    “喂，那是谁呀？”    “是我俩，哈克和汤姆·索亚。”    “好极了！孩子们跟我来，大家都在等你俩呢。快点，头里小跑，我来拉车，咦，怎么不像看上去的轻？装了砖头？还是什么破铜烂铁？”    “烂铁。”汤姆说    “我也觉得像，镇上的孩子就是喜欢东找西翻弄些破铜烂铁卖给翻砂厂，最多不过换六个子。要是干活的话，一般都能挣双倍的钱，可人就是这样的，不说了，快走吧，快点！”    两个孩子想知道为什么催他们快走。    “别问了，等到了寡妇家就知道了。”    哈克由于常被人诬陷，所以心有余悸地问道：    “琼斯先生，我们什么事也没干呀！”    威尔斯曼笑了。    “噢，我不知道，我的好孩子，哈克，我也不知道是什么事，你跟寡妇不是好朋友吗？”    “是的，不管怎么说，她一直待我很好。”    “这就行了，那么你还有什么可怕的呢？    哈克反应慢，还没转过脑筋来就和汤姆一起被推进道格拉斯夫人家的客厅。琼斯先生把车停在门边后，也跟了进来。    客厅里灯火辉煌，村里有头有面的人物全都聚在这儿。他们是撒切尔一家、哈帕一家、罗杰斯一家、波莉姨妈、希德、玛丽、牧师、报馆撰稿人，还有很多别的人，大家全都衣着考究。寡妇热情地接待这两个孩子，这样的孩子谁见了都会伸出热情之手。他俩浑身是泥土和蜡烛油。波莉姨妈臊得满脸通红，皱着眉朝汤姆直摇头。这两个孩子可受了大罪。琼斯先生说：    “当时汤姆不在家，所以我就没再找他了，可偏巧在门口让我给碰上了。他和哈克在一起，这不，我就急急忙忙把他俩弄到这里。”    “你做得对，”寡妇说，“孩子们跟我来吧。”    她把两个孩子领到一间卧室，然后对他们说：    “你们洗个澡，换件衣服。这是两套新衣服，衬衣、袜子样样齐备。这是哈克的——不，用不着道谢，哈克，一套是琼斯先生拿来的，另一套是我拿来的。不过你们穿上会觉得合身的。穿上吧，我们等着——穿好就下来。”她说完走了出去。
Chapter 34
HUCK said: "Tom, we can slope, if we can find a rope. The window ain't high from the ground."
"Shucks! what do you want to slope for?"
"Well, I ain't used to that kind of a crowd. I can't stand it. I ain't going down there, Tom."
"Oh, bother! It ain't anything. I don't mind it a bit. I'll take care of you."
Sid appeared.
"Tom," said he, "auntie has been waiting for you all the afternoon. Mary got your Sunday clothes ready, and everybody's been fretting about you. Say -- ain't this grease and clay, on your clothes?"
"Now, Mr. Siddy, you jist 'tend to your own business. What's all this blow-out about, anyway?"
"It's one of the widow's parties that she's always having. This time it's for the Welshman and his sons, on account of that scrape they helped her out of the other night. And say -- I can tell you something, if you want to know."
"Well, what?"
"Why, old Mr. Jones is going to try to spring something on the people here to-night, but I overheard him tell auntie to-day about it, as a secret, but I reckon it's not much of a secret now. Everybody knows -- the widow, too, for all she tries to let on she don't. Mr. Jones was bound Huck should be here -- couldn't get along with his grand secret without Huck, you know!"
"Secret about what, Sid?"
"About Huck tracking the robbers to the widow's. I reckon Mr. Jones was going to make a grand time over his surprise, but I bet you it will drop pretty flat."
Sid chuckled in a very contented and satisfied way.
"Sid, was it you that told?"
"Oh, never mind who it was. Somebody told -- that's enough."
"Sid, there's only one person in this town mean enough to do that, and that's you. If you had been in Huck's place you'd 'a' sneaked down the hill and never told anybody on the robbers. You can't do any but mean things, and you can't bear to see anybody praised for doing good ones. There -- no thanks, as the widow says" -- and Tom cuffed Sid's ears and helped him to the door with several kicks. "Now go and tell auntie if you dare -- and to-morrow you'll catch it!"
Some minutes later the widow's guests were at the supper-table, and a dozen children were propped up at little side-tables in the same room, after the fashion of that country and that day. At the proper time Mr. Jones made his little speech, in which he thanked the widow for the honor she was doing himself and his sons, but said that there was another person whose modesty --
And so forth and so on. He sprung his secret about Huck's share in the adventure in the finest dramatic manner he was master of, but the surprise it occasioned was largely counterfeit and not as clamorous and effusive as it might have been under happier circumstances. However, the widow made a pretty fair show of astonishment, and heaped so many compliments and so much gratitude upon Huck that he almost forgot the nearly intolerable discomfort of his new clothes in the entirely intolerable discomfort of being set up as a target for everybody's gaze and everybody's laudations.
The widow said she meant to give Huck a home under her roof and have him educated; and that when she could spare the money she would start him in business in a modest way. Tom's chance was come. He said:
"Huck don't need it. Huck's rich."
Nothing but a heavy strain upon the good manners of the company kept back the due and proper complimentary laugh at this pleasant joke. But the silence was a little awkward. Tom broke it:
"Huck's got money. Maybe you don't believe it, but he's got lots of it. Oh, you needn't smile -- I reckon I can show you. You just wait a minute."
Tom ran out of doors. The company looked at each other with a perplexed interest -- and inquiringly at Huck, who was tongue-tied.
"Sid, what ails Tom?" said Aunt Polly. "He -- well, there ain't ever any making of that boy out. I never --"
Tom entered, struggling with the weight of his sacks, and Aunt Polly did not finish her sentence. Tom poured the mass of yellow coin upon the table and said:
"There -- what did I tell you? Half of it's Huck's and half of it's mine!"
The spectacle took the general breath away. All gazed, nobody spoke for a moment. Then there was a unanimous call for an explanation. Tom said he could furnish it, and he did. The tale was long, but brimful of interest. There was scarcely an interruption from any one to break the charm of its flow. When he had finished, Mr. Jones said:
"I thought I had fixed up a little surprise for this occasion, but it don't amount to anything now. This one makes it sing mighty small, I'm willing to allow."
The money was counted. The sum amounted to a little over twelve thousand dollars. It was more than any one present had ever seen at one time before, though several persons were there who were worth considerably more than that in property.  
第三十四章　黄金如山，富了汤姆与哈克
    哈克说：“汤姆，要是弄到绳子，我们就可以滑下去，窗户离地面没有多高。”    “胡说，干吗要溜走呢？”    “是这样的，跟一大群人在一起怪不习惯的，受不了。汤姆，反正我不下去。”    “真是的，讨厌！其实下去没什么大不了的事，我根本不在乎，我会照应你的。”    希德来了。    “汤姆，”他说，“波莉姨妈一下午都在等你呐。玛丽为你准备好了礼服。大家都为你担心。喂，这不是蜡烛油和粘土吗？在你衣服上。”    “得了，希德先生，你少管闲事。他们今天为什么在这里大吃大喝呢？”    “这是寡妇家的宴会，她经常请客。这次是为了威尔斯曼和他儿子举行的，感谢他们的救命之恩。喂，还想知道得更多吗？我可以告诉你。”    “嗯，是什么事？”    “什么事？老琼斯先生今晚有惊人的消息要告诉这里的人们。他在和姨妈谈这事时，被我听到了这个秘密，不过我想，现在这已算不上什么秘密了，人人都知道，寡妇也知道，但她却尽力掩饰。琼斯先生一定要哈克出席。你瞧，哈克不在场，他怎么能说出那个大秘密呢！”    “希德，是哪方面的秘密？”    “就是哈克跟踪强盗到寡妇家的那件事情。我想琼斯想利用此事来个一鸣惊人的举动，不过我敢打赌，他不会成功。”    希德笑了，心满意足地笑了。    “希德，是你把秘密泄露出去的吧！”    “得了，别管是谁干的，反正有人已说出了那个秘密，这就够了。”    “希德，全镇只有一个下流家伙会这么干，那就是你。你要是处在哈克的位置，你早就溜之大吉，根本不会向人报告强盗的消息。你只会干些卑鄙龌龊的事情，见不得干好事的人受表扬。好，赏你这个——‘不用道谢’，照寡妇的说法。”    汤姆一边说，一边打他耳光，连踢带推把他撵出门外。“好，赶快去向姨妈告状吧，只要你敢，明天就有你好受的。”    几分钟过后，寡妇家的客人都坐在了晚餐桌旁，十几个小孩也被安排在同一间房里的小餐桌旁规规矩矩地坐着，那时的习俗就是这样。过了一会后，琼斯先生作了简短的发言，他感谢寡妇为他和儿子举办此次宴请，但他又说还有个很谦虚的人——    他说了很多后，突然戏剧性地宣布这次历险中哈克也在场。人们显得很惊讶的样子，实际上是故作的。要是在平常遇上这样欢快的场面，人们听到秘密后会显得更加热闹的。    可是只有寡妇一人却表现出相当吃惊的样子。她一个劲地赞扬和感激哈克的所作所为，结果哈克几乎忘却了众目睽睽下穿新衣不自在的感觉。    寡妇说她打算收养哈克，让他上学受教育，一旦有钱就让他做点小买卖。汤姆终于有机会搭上了腔，他说：    “哈克不需要那个，他富了。”    听了这句可笑的话，在座的来宾为了面子都忍着没有笑出来，但场面却让人尴尬。汤姆打破了沉默。    “哈克有钱了，你们或许不相信，不过他真有了很多的钱。喂，你们别笑，我会让你们看到的，请稍等片刻吧。”    汤姆跑到门外，那些人彼此迷惑不解，好奇地看着，再问哈克，他此时却张口结舌。    “希德，汤姆得了什么病？”波莉姨妈问道，“他呀——真是的，从来猜不透他，我从来没有——”    她还没说完，只见汤姆吃力地背着口袋走进来。他把黄色金币倒在桌上说：    “你们看呀！我刚才怎么说的？一半是哈克的，一半是我的！”    这一下使在座的人全都大吃一惊。大家只是瞪眼盯着桌上，一时没有人说话。接着大家一致要求汤姆说出原委。汤姆满口答应，于是就把事情的来龙去脉说了一遍，虽然话很长，但大家却听得津津有味，没有一个人插话打断他的叙述。    汤姆讲完后，琼斯先生说：    “我原以为今天我会让大家大吃一惊，可是听了汤姆的叙述，我承认我的根本不算什么了。”    钱被过了数，总共有一万二千块美元。尽管在座的人当中，有的家产不止这个数，可是一次见过这么多钱却还是头一回。
Chapter 35
THE reader may rest satisfied that Tom's and Huck's windfall made a mighty stir in the poor little village of St. Petersburg. So vast a sum, all in actual cash, seemed next to incredible. It was talked about, gloated over, glorified, until the reason of many of the citizens tottered under the strain of the unhealthy excitement. Every "haunted" house in St. Petersburg and the neighboring villages was dissected, plank by plank, and its foundations dug up and ransacked for hidden treasure -- and not by boys, but men – pretty grave, unromantic men, too, some of them. Wherever Tom and Huck appeared they were courted, admired, stared at. The boys were not able to remember that their remarks had possessed weight before; but now their sayings were treasured and repeated; everything they did seemed somehow to be regarded as remarkable; they had evidently lost the power of doing and saying commonplace things; moreover, their past history was raked up and discovered to bear marks of conspicuous originality. The village paper published biographical sketches of the boys.
The Widow Douglas put Huck's money out at six per cent., and Judge Thatcher did the same with Tom's at Aunt Polly's request. Each lad had an income, now, that was simply prodigious -- a dollar for every week-day in the year and half of the Sundays. It was just what the minister got -- no, it was what he was promised -- he generally couldn't collect it. A dollar and a quarter a week would board, lodge, and school a boy in those old simple days -- and clothe him and wash him, too, for that matter.
Judge Thatcher had conceived a great opinion of Tom. He said that no commonplace boy would ever have got his daughter out of the cave. When Becky told her father, in strict confidence, how Tom had taken her whipping at school, the Judge was visibly moved; and when she pleaded grace for the mighty lie which Tom had told in order to shift that whipping from her shoulders to his own, the Judge said with a fine outburst that it was a noble, a generous, a magnanimous lie -- a lie that was worthy to hold up its head and march down through history breast to breast with George Washington's lauded Truth about the hatchet! Becky thought her father had never looked so tall and so superb as when he walked the floor and stamped his foot and said that. She went straight off and told Tom about it.
Judge Thatcher hoped to see Tom a great lawyer or a great soldier some day. He said he meant to look to it that Tom should be admitted to the National Military Academy and afterward trained in the best law school in the country, in order that he might be ready for either career or both.
Huck Finn's wealth and the fact that he was now under the Widow Douglas' protection introduced him into society -- no, dragged him into it, hurled him into it -- and his sufferings were almost more than he could bear. The widow's servants kept him clean and neat, combed and brushed, and they bedded him nightly in unsympathetic sheets that had not one little spot or stain which he could press to his heart and know for a friend. He had to eat with a knife and fork; he had to use napkin, cup, and plate; he had to learn his book, he had to go to church; he had to talk so properly that speech was become insipid in his mouth; whithersoever he turned, the bars and shackles of civilization shut him in and bound him hand and foot.
He bravely bore his miseries three weeks, and then one day turned up missing. For forty-eight hours the widow hunted for him everywhere in great distress. The public were profoundly concerned; they searched high and low, they dragged the river for his body. Early the third morning Tom Sawyer wisely went poking among some old empty hogsheads down behind the abandoned slaughter-house, and in one of them he found the refugee. Huck had slept there; he had just breakfasted upon some stolen odds and ends of food, and was lying off, now, in comfort, with his pipe. He was unkempt, uncombed, and clad in the same old ruin of rags that had made him picturesque in the days when he was free and happy. Tom routed him out, told him the trouble he had been causing, and urged him to go home. Huck's face lost its tranquil content, and took a melancholy cast. He said:
"Don't talk about it, Tom. I've tried it, and it don't work; it don't work, Tom. It ain't for me; I ain't used to it. The widder's good to me, and friendly; but I can't stand them ways. She makes me get up just at the same time every morning; she makes me wash, they comb me all to thunder; she won't let me sleep in the woodshed; I got to wear them blamed clothes that just smothers me, Tom; they don't seem to any air git through 'em, somehow; and they're so rotten nice that I can't set down, nor lay down, nor roll around anywher's; I hain't slid on a cellar-door for -- well, it 'pears to be years; I got to go to church and sweat and sweat -- I hate them ornery sermons! I can't ketch a fly in there, I can't chaw. I got to wear shoes all Sunday. The widder eats by a bell; she goes to bed by a bell; she gits up by a bell -- everything's so awful reg'lar a body can't stand it."
"Well, everybody does that way, Huck."
"Tom, it don't make no difference. I ain't everybody, and I can't stand it. It's awful to be tied up so. And grub comes too easy – I don't take no interest in vittles, that way. I got to ask to go a-fishing; I got to ask to go in a-swimming -- dern'd if I hain't got to ask to do everything. Well, I'd got to talk so nice it wasn't no comfort -- I'd got to go up in the attic and rip out awhile, every day, to git a taste in my mouth, or I'd a died, Tom. The widder wouldn't let me smoke; she wouldn't let me yell, she wouldn't let me gape, nor stretch, nor scratch, before folks --" [Then with a spasm of special irritation and injury] -- "And dad fetch it, she prayed all the time! I never see such a woman! I HAD to shove, Tom -- I just had to. And besides, that school's going to open, and I'd a had to go to it -- well, I wouldn't stand THAT, Tom. Looky-here, Tom, being rich ain't what it's cracked up to be. It's just worry and worry, and sweat and sweat, and a-wishing you was dead all the time. Now these clothes suits me, and this bar'l suits me, and I ain't ever going to shake 'em any more. Tom, I wouldn't ever got into all this trouble if it hadn't 'a' ben for that money; now you just take my sheer of it along with your'n, and gimme a ten-center sometimes -- not many times, becuz I don't give a dern for a thing 'thout it's tollable hard to git -- and you go and beg off for me with the widder."
"Oh, Huck, you know I can't do that. 'Tain't fair; and besides if you'll try this thing just a while longer you'll come to like it."
"Like it! Yes -- the way I'd like a hot stove if I was to set on it long enough. No, Tom, I won't be rich, and I won't live in them cussed smothery houses. I like the woods, and the river, and hogsheads, and I'll stick to 'em, too. Blame it all! just as we'd got guns, and a cave, and all just fixed to rob, here this dern foolishness has got to come up and spile it all!"
Tom saw his opportunity --
"Lookyhere, Huck, being rich ain't going to keep me back from turning robber."
"No! Oh, good-licks; are you in real dead-wood earnest, Tom?"
"Just as dead earnest as I'm sitting here. But Huck, we can't let you into the gang if you ain't respectable, you know."
Huck's joy was quenched.
"Can't let me in, Tom? Didn't you let me go for a pirate?"
"Yes, but that's different. A robber is more high-toned than what a pirate is -- as a general thing. In most countries they're awful high up in the nobility -- dukes and such."
"Now, Tom, hain't you always ben friendly to me? You wouldn't shet me out, would you, Tom? You wouldn't do that, now, would you, Tom?"
"Huck, I wouldn't want to, and I don't want to -- but what would people say? Why, they'd say, 'Mph! Tom Sawyer's Gang! Pretty low characters in it!' They'd mean you, Huck. You wouldn't like that, and I wouldn't."
Huck was silent for some time, engaged in a mental struggle. Finally he said:
"Well, I'll go back to the widder for a month and tackle it and see if I can come to stand it, if you'll let me b'long to the gang, Tom."
"All right, Huck, it's a whiz! Come along, old chap, and I'll ask the widow to let up on you a little, Huck."
"Will you, Tom -- now will you? That's good. If she'll let up on some of the roughest things, I'll smoke private and cuss private, and crowd through or bust. When you going to start the gang and turn robbers?"
"Oh, right off. We'll get the boys together and have the initiation to-night, maybe."
"Have the which?"
"Have the initiation."
"What's that?"
"It's to swear to stand by one another, and never tell the gang's secrets, even if you're chopped all to flinders, and kill anybody and all his family that hurts one of the gang."
"That's gay -- that's mighty gay, Tom, I tell you."
"Well, I bet it is. And all that swearing's got to be done at midnight, in the lonesomest, awfulest place you can find -- a ha'nted house is the best, but they're all ripped up now."
"Well, midnight's good, anyway, Tom."
"Yes, so it is. And you've got to swear on a coffin, and sign it with blood."
"Now, that's something like! Why, it's a million times bullier than pirating. I'll stick to the widder till I rot, Tom; and if I git to be a reg'lar ripper of a robber, and everybody talking 'bout it, I reckon she'll be proud she snaked me in out of the wet."
　　　 CONCLUSION
SO endeth this chronicle. It being strictly a history of a boy, it must stop here; the story could not go much further without becoming the history of a man. When one writes a novel about grown people, he knows exactly where to stop -- that is, with a marriage; but when he writes of juveniles, he must stop where he best can.
Most of the characters that perform in this book still live, and are prosperous and happy. Some day it may seem worth while to take up the story of the younger ones again and see what sort of men and women they turned out to be; therefore it will be wisest not to reveal any of that part of their lives at present.
第三十五章　受人尊敬的哈克与“强盗”为伍 
    汤姆和哈克两人意外地发了横财，这下轰动了圣彼得堡这个穷乡僻壤的小村镇。读者读到这里可以松口气了。钱数多不说，又全是现金，真让人难以置信。到处的人们都在谈论此事，对他表示羡慕，称赞不已，后来有人因为过份激动，结果被弄得神魂颠倒。现在，圣彼得堡镇上每间闹鬼的屋子都被掘地三尺，木板被一块块拆掉，为的是找财宝——而且这一切全是大人们的所为，其中一部分人干得十分起劲和认真。汤姆和哈克两人无论走到哪里，人们都巴结他俩，有的表示羡慕，有的睁大眼睛观看。两个孩子记不得以前他们说话在人们心目中是否有份量，再现在大不一样。他们无论说什么，人们都看得很宝贵，到处重复他俩的话。就连他们的一举一动都被认为意义重大。显然，他俩已失去了作为普通人的资格，更有甚者，有人收集了他俩过去的资料，说以前他俩就超凡不俗。村里的报纸还刊登了两个小孩的小传。    道格拉斯寡妇把哈克的钱拿出去按六分利息放债，波莉姨妈委托撒切尔法官以同样利息把汤姆的钱也拿出去放债。现在每个孩子都有一笔数目惊人的收入。平常日子以及半数的星期日，他俩每天都有一块大洋的收入。这笔钱相当一个牧师的全年收入——不，准确地说，师拿不到那些，只是上面先给他们开张空头支票而已。那时，生活费用低，１元２角５分钱就够一个孩子上学、膳宿的费用，连穿衣、洗澡等都包括在内。    撒切尔法官十分器重汤姆，他说汤姆绝不是个平庸的孩子，否则他不会救出他的女儿。听到贝基悄悄地告诉他，汤姆在校曾替她受过，挨过鞭笞时，法官显然被感动了。她请求父亲原谅汤姆。汤姆撒了个大谎主要是为了替她挨鞭笞，法官情绪激动，大声说，那个谎是高尚的，它是慷慨、宽宏大量的谎话。它完全有资格，昂首阔步，永垂青史，与华盛顿那句曾大受赞扬的关于斧头的老实话①争光！贝基见父亲踏着地板，跺着脚说这句话时显得十分伟大了不起，她以前从没见过父亲是这个样子。她直接跑去找到汤姆，把这事告诉了他。    　　①据说华盛顿总统小时候用父亲给他的小斧子曾把一棵樱桃树砍掉，当父亲追问时，他不怕受罚，诚实地承认了自己的过错。 
    撒切尔法官希望汤姆以后成为一名大律师或是著名的军人。他说他打算安排汤姆进国家军事学院，然后再到最好的法学院接受教育，这样将来随便当律师、做军人或是身兼两职都行。    哈克·费恩有了钱，又归道格拉斯寡妇监护，这样他踏入了社交圈子——不对，他是被拖进去，被扔进去的——于是他苦不堪言。寡妇的佣人帮他又梳又刷，把他收拾得干干净净，每晚又为他换上冷冰冰的床单。哈克想在上面找个小黑点按在心口做朋友都找不到。他吃饭得用刀叉，还要使餐巾、杯子和碟子；他又得念书，上教堂。说话枯燥无味没关系，但谈吐要斯文，他无论走到那里，文明都束缚着他的手脚。    就这样，他硬着头皮忍受着，过了三个星期。突然有一天他不见了。寡妇急得要命，四处去找他，找了整整有两天两夜。众人们也十分关注此事，他们到处搜索，有的还到河里去打捞。第三天一大早，汤姆挺聪明，在破旧的屠宰场后面的几只旧空桶中找人，结果在一只空桶中发现了哈克，他就在这过夜。哈克刚吃完早饭，吃的全是偷来的剩饭菜。他抽着烟斗，正舒服地躺在那里休息。他邋遢不堪，蓬头垢面，穿着往日快快活活时那套有趣的烂衣服。汤姆把他撵出来，告诉他已惹了麻烦，要他快回家。哈克脸上悠然自得的神情消失了，马上呈现出一脸的愁相。他说：    “汤姆，别提那事了，我已经试过了，那没有用，没用，汤姆。那种生活不适合我过，我不习惯。寡妇待我好，够处，可是我受不了那一套。她每天早晨叫我按时起床；她叫我洗脸；他们还给我使劲地梳；她不让我在柴棚里睡觉。汤姆，我得穿那种倒霉的衣服，紧绷绷的，有点不透气。衣服很漂亮，弄得我站也不是，坐也不行，更不能到处打滚。我已经很长时间没有到过别人家的地窖里，也许有许多年了。我还得去做礼拜，弄得浑身是汗——我恨那些一文不值的布道辞！在那里我既不能捉苍蝇，也不能嚼口香糖，星期日整天不能赤脚。吃饭、上床睡觉、起床等寡妇都要按铃，总而言之，一切都井然有序，真让人受不了。”    “不过，哈克，大家都是这样的。”    “汤姆，你说得没错，不过我不是大家，我受不了，捆得那样紧真让人受不了。还有，不费劲就能搞到吃的东西，我不喜欢这种吃法，就是要钓鱼也得先征求寡妇的同意，去游个泳也得先问问她，真他妈的，干什么事都要先问她才行。说话也得斯文，真不习惯——我只好跑到阁楼顶上胡乱放它一通，这样嘴里才有滋味，否则真不如死了算，汤姆。寡妇不让我抽烟，不让我在人前大声讲话，或大喊大叫，还不许我伸懒腰，抓痒痒——”（接着他显得十分烦躁和委屈的样子。）    “还有呢，她整天祈祷个没完！我从来也没见过她这样的女人。    我得溜走，汤姆——不溜不行呀，况且，学校快要开学了，不跑就得上学，那怎么能受得了呢。汤姆？喂，汤姆，发了横财并不像人们说得那样是个非常愉快的事情。发财简直就是发愁，受罪，最后弄得你真希望不如一死了之。这儿的衣服我穿合适，在桶里睡觉也不错，我再不打算离开这儿。汤姆，要不是那些钱，我根本不会有这么多的麻烦事情，现在，你把我那份钱也拿去，偶尔给我毛把钱用就行了，不要常给，因为我觉得容易得到的东西并有什么大价值。请你到寡妇那儿为我告辞吧。”    “噢，哈克，你知道，我不能这样做，这不太好。你如果稍微多试几天，就会喜欢那种生活的。”    “喜欢那种生活——就像喜欢很长时间坐在热炉子上一样。我不干，汤姆，我不要当富人，也不想住在那闷热倒霉的房子里。我喜欢森林、河流、那些大桶，我决不离开这些东西。真是倒霉，刚弄了几条枪，找到了山洞，准备去当强盗，却偏偏碰上了这种事情，真让人扫兴。”    汤姆瞅到了机会——    “喂，哈克，富了也能当强盗啊。”    “真的吗？你说话当真，汤姆？”    “当然当真，就像我人坐在这儿一样，千真万确。不过，我们不接受不体面的人入伙，哈克。”    哈克的高兴劲被一下子打消了。    “不让我入伙，汤姆？你不是让我当过海盗吗？”    “是让你当过，不过这跟入伙没什么关系，总的说来，强盗比海盗格调要高。在许多国家，强盗算是上流人当中的上流人，都是些公爵之类的人。”    “汤姆，你一直对我很好，不是吗？你不会不让我入伍，对吧，汤姆？不会不让我入伍吧，汤姆，是不是？”    “哈克，我不愿不让你入伍，也不想那么干，不过要是让你进来，别人会怎么说呢？他们会不屑一顾地说：瞧汤姆·索亚那帮乌合之众，全是些低贱的人。这是指你的，哈克。你不会喜欢他们这么说你，我也不喜欢。”    哈克沉默了一会，思想上在作激烈的斗争。最后他开了腔：    “得，我再回到寡妇家里应付上一个月，看能不能适应那种生活，不过汤姆，你会让我入伍，对吧？”    “好吧，哈克，一言为定！走，老伙计，我去跟寡妇讲，让她对你要求松一些。”    “你答应了，汤姆？你答应了，这太好了。在些难事上，她要是能宽容一些，我就可以背地里抽烟、诅咒。要么挺过去，要么完蛋拉倒。你打算什么时候结伙当强盗？”    “噢，这就干。把孩子们集中起来，也许今晚就举行入伙仪式。”    “举行什么？”    “举行入伙仪式。”    “什么叫入伙仪式？”    “就是发誓互相帮忙，永不泄密。就是被剁成肉酱也不能泄密。如果有人伤害了你，就把他和他全家统统干掉，一个不留。”    “这真好玩，真有意思，汤姆。”    “对，我想是好玩。发誓仪式得在半夜举行，要选在最偏僻、最恐怖的地方干。闹鬼的房子最好，可现在全被拆了。”    “半夜时分干还是不错的，汤姆。”    “对。还要对棺材发誓，咬破指头签名呐。”    “这才真有点像样呢！这比当海盗要强一万倍。汤姆，我到死都跟着寡妇在一起了。我要是始终能成为一名响当当的强盗，人人都会谈到我，那么，我想，她会为自己把我从困境中解救出来而自豪。”
结束语    故事至此结束。因为这确实是个儿童的故事，所以写到这里必须搁笔，再写下去就得涉及到成人时期。写成人的故事，作者很清楚写到结婚成家就算了事，但是写青少年则得见好就收。    本书中的人物有许多仍然健在，过着富裕快乐的生活。有朝一日再来续写这个故事，看看原来书中的小孩子们长大后做什么，这也许是件值得做的事情。正因为如此，明智的做法就是现在不要越俎代庖。