“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’s.”
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 anyone 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
